The WayBackThe way she holds back the cappacino foam
with the curve of her spoon
as she cautiously pours in the sugar;
The way she pulls her hair around the nape of her neck
to her left sholder
and the way it falls back down along her spine;
The way she eats a toasted rye sandwich
with only two fingers and a thumb
while the others curl away into her palm;
And the way she holds her long hand out under her chin
for each bite;
The way the curve of her upper lip flexes when she speaks;
The way she falls silent between each sprint
of our conversation;
The way the spots flash and fade in the darkness
when I press the pads of my fingers
across my eyelids
to the bridge of my nose:
All these things I see.
--Z.T. June 25, 1999
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Poems: The Way www.snarkdreams.com |
Last Edited: 22 Jul 2000 ©1999 by Z. Tomaszewski. |