Monday 30 April 2012

day one hundred and seventeen.

plans made,
delayed,
then run away from
in the attempt
to make something else
of the night.
one night jokes
of the unmentionable
only to be mentioned
two days later
in an underlying
pleading tone
but pleading in a way
in which the receiver can only
figure out
with close reading.
all is never clear, even if the words seem so.

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