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Mina Lee

United States

Just a dreamer with too many metaphors.

Message to Readers

Second Draft :)

A Work in Progress

August 16, 2015

PROMPT: Poetry

0
The times I try to write him down on paper
   (as a poem)
My fingers try to remember how to stop;
   fabricate his hand in mine,
do nothing more.

Rather, smear writing,
   try to call it
poetry;
scatter shards of soft skin
   under baggy eyes
and draw lines in the confetti.

We allow our toes to touch,
briefly.
   Permissible necessities
allow us reminiscence,
only.
   (poetically, of course.)

He is not a complete thought,
   abridge him to avoid details.
like:

The smell of his sweatshirt;
   watered-down coffee,
a simple cliche,
  
but not the sharp curve of his collarbones;
   carve him from the small of his back
then
   hide
him.

Long and
   thin fingers
holding vertebrae together, and

the taste of salt in
   wide eyes; trying to avoid
confronting conclusions,

but not the deep husk in
   his voice-
gravel scrapes

from tripping: safely.

I cannot dream him whole,
yet.
   
A fragment to me,
rather, by me;

write him only
   as vague metaphors,
wavering.

I cannot
write more.

Denouement leaves
   him
as a work in progress:
   uncertain.

incomplete.


    




 

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