Poem

Votive

the hand back-spasms,

from the just-caught wineglass it cracks,

the finger’s skin untouched

for no reason really, just dumb luck,

or the ignorant arrangement of things –

the glass left here, on the edge of a table,

set down to answer the call

of a woman I once loved,

the way one grabs, almost casually,

through the without-thought of the body,

for what cannot be called back.

Comments

[SECRET DIARY]

Heya! This is my first time on your blog. I love your blog. I will be back. Stay fabulous. It keeps 'em guessing. Ciao.

~ Secret Diary
http://RFourBiz.Blogspot.com
http://Twitter.com/TheSecretDiary

[Finnegan]

Nice poem, RJ. Love the focus on the stray gesture and how it speaks to other, larger emotions.

Best,
Jim