Al Fresco Cafe Poem #174

Painting by Vargas


AL FRESCO CAFÉ POEM #174



The words,

The words, the words
We
Spoke
To each other, wingless,

Never flew through the open doors of their cages.

Stayed paralyzed on the circle of a newspaper,
Were crossed
By the
Thin
Shadows of cage wires

And the oval shadow of a cuttlebone.


We both heard the shadows that crossed the words
Sing
A requiem.
Renata, I can

This summer recall
Verbatim
Every word I did not say.


Duane Locke

Posted over on Zygote In My Coffee