With each word they tighten their fetters |
letters |
and lengthen their chains. She swipes the notes he sends her, |
torment |
locked in shining sheets, somehow there |
then |
yet always beyond reach. Still she waits |
titillate, |
with open hands, catching coin, never knowing |
blowing |
the lips from which each leaf is torn – |
horns, |
still, she prays, where spaces stood, his letters stand – |
fanning |
still, where once he stood, she withstands grief |
leaves, |
like pennies pounded thin, like thieving |
sewing |
hands and mouths mutely confessing |
subtlety |
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