The rains erased what had been
a whole picture of you.
Reduced to myriad pieces
on the marble floor like a puzzle,
I see no single match
to light a fire inside a room.
A broken voice is insistent.
The need to act is a reaction
against the sound of tick-tock.
But the seriality of my singular act
is no match.
Am I enough?
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
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