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Sunday Offerings

by Mark Maxey

coldness from outside seeps in
gathered around my feet as a waiting pet
I want to reach down and caress it
stillness is thick upon the air
written words typed upon the screen
seem heavier than the trapped smoky air

assimilated thoughts try to glue themselves together
which don’t seem to happen tonight
another misused opportunity to write
a glass of wine, a single cigarette mixed with time
but no use…it’s not working

01/16/2005

Posted on 01/17/2005
Copyright © 2024 Mark Maxey

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Maureen Glaude on 01/17/05 at 01:44 AM

but it works for me. I'm right there in that thickness of waiting.

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