think again,
time to contemplate the way of things.
I notice again, finally,
the gesture of a hand,
light's quiet glow,
the authority of words.
Months of held breath,
sick with decisions,
but thoughts, stunted--
the bird with clipped wings,
water surrounded by the concrete
walls of a pool.
And though there is now a certain loneliness,
I have more time
to grasp some things I missed.
As if all the thoughts now
are driftwood carved in to a dining room chair.
Alexandra Ustach
Rough Draft 12/15/09
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