Quotidian
Skim would seem a flimsy barrier
cut by paper sometimes.
Yet I’m deep within it
like a girl banished to a tree house in a foreign forest.
And you are sequestered, wrapped in our common covering.
Though I resist story, its peak and deceptive denouements
where a stranger makes a new planet home,
a fish irrevocably shuns shore,
I give you “I said”
in the font of my hands.
Your reply, the echo of this mouth
| Nancy Devine |
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