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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 3908 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention Interconnections Steve Williams I wonder if she feels my gaze. She is a drop pulled from water bodies, striking stone. I hear this music. Her cheeks, newborn blue eyes, fingers, do not explain her. A single note is not a chord, a chord not a symphony. I brush my fingers on her face, imagine her eyes turning to me. She cannot be condensed. She cries notes of hunger that evolve to a symphony of gurgles, swallows, and sighs. As mother and daughter sleep, I come to stand under an apple tree, feel its exhalations in my lungs. The robins squabble for ripe fruit. I wonder if the tree intends to feed us, if the life inside, feels itself. |
