Perhaps When I Touched You

Posted on 13 February 2010

Perhaps when I touched you, it was like you were shining.
And when you touched me,
it was like the alphabet was something we never knew.
Perhaps when we closed the doors,
the windows retreated to a place
where the earth was still learning how to manufacture my whistle.
And where the earth’s relatives made progress by the side of their horse.
And perhaps when I touched the dress you were wearing,
an ancient man stood aside and asked me
to tell him the story of his life.
But to do it quietly.
And to embellish it without meaning with the surface of the words
that broke open the involuntary cask that left feathers forsaken
for the birds that flew through my heart.


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