The Unswung Bat

Tuesday, January 11, 2005

It was very complicated, even as it was simple.
One day she was in a crooked box of a shanty
chattering between pots and pans.
Mercury hands flowed and set on a pen.
Set and sprang.

Eyes unlidding old countries, scanned,
while the mercury hands brought the flying stylus
breathless across a new-known path.

In a quiet home and the land an open
and restive question, she, shy
hands sandduned on a warped woodplank tabletop.
Ocean sussurating outside
like Mercury, gasping.

original site + text contents ©2004 twenty oh four by me called it

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