13 June 2011

Frustration

Template of a storm, clouds
whirling like a fingerprint,
leaving traces of numbers
and letters behind: the traction
of waiting, the rise
and fall of temperature matching
the rise and fall of his chest,
a small quake by the jaw
as it seizes breath.
Love notes are always
too short and dripping.
Old words are drizzle, not hail.

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