Today's poem is by Jane Satterfield
What can be said can be said clearly;
the rest we must pass over in silence.
This maddening thoughtlips might meet.
What we can't speak we pass over in silence.
Winter sticks in the makeshift sky, the concrete
outside ground down to crumbs.
Trees maintain their terse positions, shyness
in an instant struck over and over
Clouds pass over in silencewhat we cannot speak.
Lips might meet: a thought that maddens.
Light crumbles; flowers flung in the trashcan.
As clouds meet like lips in silence,
flowers passed over in silence, shyness
flung into the trashcan.
We madden with what we cannot speak
Copyright © 2003 Jane Satterfield All rights reserved
from Assignation at Vanishing Point
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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Copyright © 2002, 2003 Verse Daily
All Rights Reserved
Copyright © 2002, 2003 Verse Daily All Rights Reserved