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Thursday, June 15, 2006

Reading Lessons

The heart isn't a payphone,
it doesn't accept short change,
a call won't recharge connections
worn out with mind tricks,
your kitchen tricks,
my card tricks,
snap snapping words,
playing every game,
fingers drumming
impatient compositions
on dinner table conferences,
but this isn't a game,
it's a lesson
on how to read me.

Silent evenings
time turns
with the smallest of hands,
take me in your hands,
speak to me without words,
read me as you read my poetry,
with your heart,
but not necessarily understanding,
put our day on dishes
served warm with longing,
rekindle old lover scars,
make some new,
read me without covers,
as I read you.

Be the only place
I can lay my head
after a heavyweight bout
with the world,
be the marker that
signals paradise,
blunt the knife's edge
that holds hope hostage,
tune me if you have to,
synchronise my pulse to yours,
if that's what it takes to read me,
just learn to see this boy inside,
looking for more
than sweetshop candy.

Read more of my poems >>

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© CC License 2004-18. Unless otherwise stated all poetry, prose and art are the original work of the blog owner.