she brings the air
in her words
I exhale hastily
to draw deep

hold them to the light
as if these words
were ektachrome slides
colors and edges

blurring the distinction
between record-keeping and art
I make up new definitions
as I view them through my lashes

love,
faith,
honor, and hope

these words bring the
scent of new rain
on dusty desert roads
pollens that have fell barren

that slightly sweet scent
of a newborn child
spelled out into the auditory
indefinably alluring

truth,
peace,
respect, and revolution

I feel them fill holes
holes that shouldn’t be there
I try to touch them on my screen
define their grit on my fingertips

feel the treason behind her suffering
betrayal through wordless actions
coarse, small and angry
self-congratulatory theft of trust

life,
patience,
forgiveness, and balance

she brings the air
I reach to understand
to bring her words to my lips
and hold them there softly

to hold them safe within me

© Tom Watters  9/23/07