Thursday, March 25, 2010

The Annunciation of Our Lord

I think we would have been happy

in a life without miracles. Slow blooms

never interested me much. The flowers

show their colors, darken to shades

of blood. He never asked if I wanted to live

without being touched, without the slow

twinge of regret in the morning. The sun

falls on a curve of my breast. I know

what it means to want. It whispers to me

from the folds of my knuckles. I miss

everything I’ve ever missed.

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