I trifled with the trouble of a poem today, All day lacing syllables or their lack, Twisting word into word until words stayed, Giving freely what my shyer soul held back. 5 How like words our awkward pauses stoop, Saying "wait" like a falling leaf unshook; That we might fall on even as we stop, I'll write each love-look down in my love-book: How our bodies wooed as wild water went, 10 How whiphand and hip undid innocence, How love was more than what our lips had sent; How what was was wasted reticence. I listen to the dropped stone intone: Silence says nothing between we two alone.
From the collection "Supposing Roses"
Written by Gregg Glory [Gregg G. Brown]
More information available on gregglory.com.