you do not
want to know this
but your poem
is as the sighing
of your blouse
while it drifts
from your shoulders
to the floor.

and when I
kiss you I do
not hear angels, but
a weary, familiar
voice, intoning
“your journey
is not begun –
begin again”

I do not pretend
that my experience
outdoes yours, but
humor me please
as my fingers find the buttons.
They tend to stagger
and it has been
so long.

This entry was published on 03/25/2011 at 1:56 am and is filed under Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

3 thoughts on “blouse

  1. One of the loveliest of the loveliest, Seb. This one could stand on its own in anyone’s blog.

  2. Margaret Guildfoyle on said:

    Yes, always one of your very best. This is one that I will always remember you for.

  3. parliamentaryowl on said:

    This is a wonderful poem!

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