There is a thought on my tongue.
Wonder what it would’ve done
had it cloaked itself in words
but I remain clammed up
and let my silence burn
her stately veneer’s hem.
But many moments later
this moment will unfurl upon her.
Poised on the Metro escalator,
with the sweat breaking over her brow,
she would not know what hit her
or on her tongue tastes bitter.
© Dan Husain
May 27, 2006
5 comments:
hmmm.silent conversations have the power to kill, i have come to know of it...
Hmmmm
Tis it better to remain nude as one was made or to be all dressed up with no place to go?
Also, I wonder, what is behind "it" becoming a "she"? Is it because the thought is "kept" at home, barefoot and pregnant as it were? Or did "it" become "she" because of the fruit born?
Thank you for your thought provoking poetry Dan, it has been awhile...
u muted me...
beautifuly said
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