THE NIGHT BEFORE
A glorious red balloon
it's how he told me
my mouth felt.
The night before he left
he stared at flesh -
no words exchanged
he wanted me to think
kissing was good, and
took his fingers, closed
my eyelids, told me
"It was alright to breathe."
Wondered if men gave
out candy here?
The wrong he did was so . . .
casual for him -
as if he took apart another
puzzle - so singular
People say birds are exotic -
he compared me to a bird.
Wondered if I could have flown?
A bird twists silently out from
its' nest of twigs.
My body settled into summer.
Birds gathered at a feeder -
I feel stillness all so ordinary,
suddenly you are naked -
thinking, the entire
world sees you pass
It is morning and I am again,
alone.
I think of how birds
flew - out there, in the open.
Nancy Duci Denofio
published - What Brought You Here
June 2010 page 17
MUSIC is POETRY are words we hear day and night, words which flow together and become a part of our day.
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