Conversation Piece

More poetry!  Or draft poetry!  Whatever you want to call it.  I think it’s a little difficult to consider a poem finished on the day it’s first written.  (The initial draft of this was actually written on the subway yesterday, but still to say it’s “finished” may be a bit premature.)

The Conversation

He, who has not always been
kind, but wants to be,
told me of a dream.

“I was crying,” he said,
“as I looked at you,”
and that it had to do, he thought,
with something painful that
I had once refused to disclose,
he’d forgotten what.

I knew the conversation,
but also could not remember
exactly what I’d not said–there is so much
I would not tell him–only
that it was suddenly more painful than ever
it might have been
in the reflection of that girl,
the girl in his dream, enough so that
when he looked at me, I felt small
cracks at the backs
of my eyes and, for a moment,
could not speak again.
“Well?” he asked, and I said,
“anything else?”

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2 Comments on “Conversation Piece”

  1. Sian Says:

    Aah, I recognize the High Road. Took me a long time to see the way to that one.
    Lovely poem.

    • manicddaily Says:

      Thanks, Sian. I feel like it needs to be simplified a bit, but wasn’t sure where to go. Hope all is well. K.

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