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clams
by Lauren Singersomewhere, in the spaces
left between all of our hesitant avoidance,
there is
love.
clams, you say.
that is who we are,
sitting on the bed,
and the eyes are right,
and the hands, interwoven,
even heads tilt, ear-to-ear and
there is an occasional lilt of the voice
that says,
here it is.
everything we ever knew about ourselves.
what of shells?
they stay closed and there is
still
so much to need. 07/26/2011 Posted on 07/26/2011
Copyright © 2024 Lauren Singer
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 07/26/11 at 06:55 PM I like it but I have found that over time silence doesn't always communicate as well as we may think. Nice write. |
| Posted by Ken Harnisch on 07/27/11 at 09:48 AM ..and so much to hear. Very quiet, contemplative, and different one from you Lauren, and I like it immensely |
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