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Copyright © 2008 Wordletting. All rights reserved. All rights to the poetry on this website are owned by the individual authors, and no part of this site may be reproduced, published, distributed, displayed, performed, copied, or used in any other manner for public or private purposes. |
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Issue 2 |
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Page 1 |
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In Love, Wearing Heavy Coats
Wearing heavy coats as if we had crossed the Bering Straits we wander through grocery stores slipping steaks into our pockets. Sidewalk stalls are a gift. We come home to plumbing that spits rust into our sinks. We take long walks in Central Park, the night's dome as calm and as welcoming as a planetarium's. We scan the papers on the benches for news of free concerts. Sometimes we linger in front of a restaurant looking through the glass as if staring into an exotic aquarium. What must it be like to eat whenever you want? Above us is a sky powdered with stars. Near us a lake, its water as silky as a kimono. We share a red umbrella the way we do our lives as we panhandle near the Met, the mist blurring the stars. Together we welcome even the smallest change.
-- Bob Bradshaw |
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cocooning
burrowing from glaring light in cozy annex, darkened crazy imagination will twine a vortex
where neon imperfections smash alongside the head
for the crowd's twisted merriment
you thought I was beautiful before and I suppose I was with my accordion wings and intricate pattern screaming to be ripped
I am an enduring insect
and my torn wingtip crushed naked on the sidewalk will stalk you every time you walk by.
-- Rhonda Mino-Melanson |
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New Lease
I stand in fresh air waving the arms of my hair wild like drapes out of open windows. Spring cleaning means new winds move the old tenants of winter out. They say the body vacates, completely renewed every seven years. I'm not the same as I remember being, now that I think of it.
-- Wayne Moore |