Conversations (III)

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Conversations (III)

You can send me fractions.
The shattered pagoda of memory blasts

Back into place and the splinters
Spiral into a soft round kiss.

We’re half shade and half sun
And never fully half, holding

A hymn hands can’t tear
To pieces, or sing solely.

7 thoughts on “Conversations (III)

  1. jessamayann

    You must carry an endless supply of sadness and reflection in your pockets. You pull it out in words and share it with anyone of us who searches our own pockets for the right articulation. It is a heavy gift. Thank you for these poems.

    Reply

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