Monday, November 19, 2012

NEW! Poem by Tracy Truels

Tracy Truels 


I cannot blame the starfish for they are small and hold on to things.
I woke up next to a man not my husband but who still kept me warm.
I once slept in the field like a buried body, so long slips of grass grew between my wrist bones.
When we sleep you sink into the bed like a fish thrown back into water,
so deep I don’t know if I could reach you with my arm.
We must take something unknown to our grave so that the ones we love will follow us.
I cannot blame the places I’ve slept. I held onto our bed until it broke like a dam.
The grass sleeps above our buried bodies, and the stars hold on to my things.

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