Monday, March 21, 2011

naked cliff diving

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I am stopped;
who are you?
Even the earth is watching to see;
even then hum that comes from
taught heart strings
(the melody of nerves in waiting)
holds quiet in my chest;
scared to move, perhaps;
or scared that you’ll move, too;
or scared to hope that nervous humming
was my last bit of apprehensive nervousness.
My tongue has been swept up
by clichéd visuals: craggy rocks
and plunges into water; precipices,
blinded tours, and giant leaps.
But before I utter any phrase  (clichéd or not),
I am stopped:
who are you?




© afterthoughtcomposer



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