Tuesday, 18 January 2011

viut vut

I prize the late night crackle
of your voice on the telephone
without truly wanting you
but needing your speech at midnight.

I imagine you. My logic impeached
by the rattles of my heart
which flutters young, restless,
I have swam your shallow waters.


Somebody is upset. Reckless,
as a wrecking ball I hover
against the vanity cabinet
ready to spit my sympathies.

Yet I draw back, timid.
I am aware of my arrogance
in comparing my miserable trials
to her magnificent break-up.

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