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Speech Impediment

You often says things in which
I can say little in return—my growing

deficiency—and the sky turns yellow.
We lay a blanket in a field in the middle

of nowhere and return to find it
covered in earth that cannot grow.

We lie in this space and stare
into a sky filled with clouds that are

lined with mildew. It begins to rain, and
we take in the moisture

and softly blossom with pastel-
colored flowers. We lose the ability

to speak, to use our peripheries,
only knowing that the other lies

under the same sky, forming a hill
in the same space. Like-minded flowers.

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Published inBlogging & PoemsMy Poems

2 Comments

  1. I see very strong continuity in your most recent work. It seems to all be a part of the same world, or of colliding worlds that are all part of a single interconnected narrative.

    • Thank you, Jeff. I have been feeling somewhat discouraged, on one hand, because of how different my writing has been lately compared to my previous work; but I feel a more steady flow between the pieces now, on the other. Your comment confirms that… thank you.

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