a sonnet by Angela Thomas there's a poem brimming just under the surface, a drop of water suspended through tension with the air. i pull away right about this time, all the time, back into a suspended state of smoke. i haven't done anything wrong and yet, crossing the same park i watched from my window so many years ago, (and i can say that now, for real), i felt a pang of nothing to say, which meant there was nothing good to say. words hanging in some stupid text message and he's probably sleeping, dreamless. this sudden awareness feels different tho. it feels like poetry. 06/23/2011 Posted on 06/23/2011 Copyright © 2024 Angela Thomas Member Comments on this Poem Posted by Quentin S Clingerman on 06/23/11 at 03:15 PM A sense of continuing loss. A broken relationship that will not likely be repaired. Poignant. Return to the Previous Page   pathetic.org Version 7.3.2 May 2004 Terms and Conditions of Use 0 member(s) and 2 visitor(s) online All works Copyright © 2024 their respective authors. Page Generated In 0 Second(s)