Saturday, February 20, 2010

Borrowed View

“I used to be an athlete,”

is what I think in the shower

looking down at myself.

Strange to know a past

hidden from everyone.

I was walking alone

when I started to feel better.

Perhaps I thought of you

reading my last letter:

your shock or your disgust

keeps you quiet. You don’t know?

I was your borrowed view

behind the gate, the wall of leaves.

“This is the last string

you attach to me,” I say

and let bleed what bleeds,

having been touched

on the surface.

*Soren Stockman is currently getting his groove on in Italy. He reads this, tell him how much you love and miss him.

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