It was a risk, I knew it
before I opened my mouth,
to read her my poem about
'explosions in life,' a simple
metaphor, and how they
open up 'mineshafts to
words in the deep.' She
gave a shake of her head
with a tilt, so I read
again this time slower,
working on my
enunciation because the
problem has to be my
smothering of the words
with my tongue. She said
nothing and had the vague
expression of being lost, so
I tried one more time with
changes of inflection and
tone. Still no reply or
change of expression, so
another time I tried,
begging for comprehension.
There would be no fifth for she
picked up her kindle and
began reading on the deck
in the sun, and I went
inside to write another
poem for myself.
©Eusebeia Philos 2013
oh, how I feel you in this. how many times do you have to try to be understood? this is a beautiful description of that feeling and a very felt write.
ReplyDeleteHi Andrea. Thank you for reading. I know you get this and how frustrating it can be.
Deletethis is too sad and maybe why the only time I read my stuff aloud is to a microphone attached to a computer.
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