Sunday, September 14, 2008

The Letter

Days drag by,
and still I watch the television.
5 o'clock, 6 o'clock, 11 o'clock.
The hours when your name is spoken on every channel
by unfamiliar faces painted like Barbies
always behind custom-made desks of artificial wood.

For me, nothing is taken on face value anymore.
To hear them utter your name
a name sweet as any nectar to my lips.
Only now the topic of town gossip
forcing me to accept what waits outside my door.

A stone thrown into placid waters
sank to depths unknown.
Men sift through mounds of coarse dirt
in hopes of finding gold, only to recover bone.

That letter never mailed
discovered in a box of your belongings.
Shadows step forward trapping me in the darkest corner.
Alone, fingers transfixed on the envelope
afraid to open, afraid to hear your voice.

©1991
In memory of Stephanie Lilien

stay gold & be well…

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