Sunday, December 15, 2013

Chasing After Comets

I know words. We're on a first-name basis.
We've whispered secrets back and forth,
we've passed notes and secret glances--
we've said more than could be said;
we've learned how to understand each other,
even without each other.

I've learned which words to let fly,
and which to coddle between my palms.
I know which ones are sacred, which ones
to wait for--the ones that don't come around
a second time. They're flickering flames--
they're chasing after comets.

I caught a few tonight, like fireflies in a net.
They flew from you; I'm not sure you noticed,
but I did. I had not expected it then--
so sharp and precise. So matter-of-fact.
It was instantaneous, but I snatched it up--
that one word, that one little word:


currently listening to: Poison & Wine by The Civil Wars