You stare into the azure distances That eyes cannot exceed. A serious voice bleeds Through the wall, but you don’t hear what it says. At night, you fold the paper in your lap To solve the crossword; as Descending letters pass Onto the page, you sense a code, perhaps A whole vocabulary, meant for you That you may never speak. The bedroom windows creak As if your mother, three years dead, brings news. The real repels our words or swallows them. All we can do is point In agony, anoint In ecstasy our stuttering intent: The sky’s bright emptiness reduced to phrases Imploding definition; Beyond concise confessions, The coins, carved bones, and blood brought from dark places.
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