Tuesday, April 21, 2009

up north

Sometimes
on Mondays
he still wakes up sweating,
still dreams of symbols.

His wife's hair
touches his cheek
he doesn't know
what to say
so he watches her sleep 
and sees clear needles
clear minds clouded
and his daughter's wide, clear eyes.

He doesn't know
what to do
when her eyes are suspicious;
he sees his youth
and his brother's young smiles
and photographs of happiness
captured in one one hundredth
of a second.

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