I WRITE THE WORD “MUTE”
into the condensation on the window.
I breath across it again
and write your name.
Then lick the letters off the glass,
pretending my tongue is a mop for souls.
We have the evenness of our hands,
to survey the unevenness of our lives.
(Nathan Shepherdson)
http://www.amazon.it/Sweeping-Light-Back-Into-Mirror/dp/0702235695
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