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I watched her parted lips. They said enough
And nothing more. I would have been content
With happiness; I would have borne at large

The baby’s-breath that tucked a faded rose
Between its gauzy stems. A place where wood
And stone could fit together, a cognate

Of aspen (our favorite rendezvous)
And granite (worldly, but not of this world).
Someplace that found and fleshed us out and we

Delighted, being found. A little ground
Within a forest clearing, lamed by pleasure –
An April sunbeam’s doubled-bladed shaft.

It would have been such deepening of light,
Its richness ran to darkness as a friend,
And stars would hate to see it go away

When winter swept the constellations from
The northern sky. Some ground, I say, we’d find
If only she would say, if only speak.

I watched her parted lips. They said, “Not here.”


  1. Anywhere but on the lips.

    Good work JOB.

  2. Jonathan Webb says:

    Good work, indeed.

  3. I’ll read this one aloud for you! It is beautiful…

  4. I rather like “its richness ran to darkness as a friend.”

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