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by Brynn Dizack

how lithe,
her boy body,
especially the ankles
(i just know this--
although i have never seen them)

her teeth,
a typewriter,
poised to tell me stories.

i can imagine things in winter:
a lit heart burrowed in jackets and scarves.

i want to give her things.
otherwise, i can't
explain it.

pretend we are ships,
and the ocean is glass.
pretend we are ancient things,
and the world is
unknown to us.

i think we tried too hard.
i think when the corks
sounded off from bottles,
we were already pretending.


(you just know this--
although you have never seen us.)


Posted on 05/14/2009
Copyright © 2022 Brynn Dizack

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Scott Cadence on 05/14/09 at 06:17 AM

"we were already pretending" - great poem.

Posted by Ava Blu on 08/07/09 at 06:23 PM

I will never understand why the best poems end up having little to no comments. You are best.

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