Friday, August 19, 2011


if you were to go from here
trailing your long white feet
in the dust like a flightless bird
wanting to fly, not knowing how,
I would wait to watch
you go, heart closed
against the weather
brewing in your eyes:
never saying stay or go

only wait for you
to come back
as if nothing
had happened,
to finish your
breakfast cooling
on the table,

or make that last long step
over the final rise and take wing

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