Four hours
When I fell backwards
in the vestibule of speech,
loud and starched like
an unuttered joke,
the air grew dim.
And as each breath
anesthetized
the night,
I tasted mouthfuls of
torpor.
I knew
a moment of scuffed
quiescence
would suffice
to drench my throat
with radiance;
to hurl me into the midst
of a chomatic whirl.
When I tapped into the
synthesis of resonance and heat,
I took your hand --
we rode the wave.
And the clock had just struck nine.
Copyright ©2009 Anna Piutti
in the vestibule of speech,
loud and starched like
an unuttered joke,
the air grew dim.
And as each breath
anesthetized
the night,
I tasted mouthfuls of
torpor.
I knew
a moment of scuffed
quiescence
would suffice
to drench my throat
with radiance;
to hurl me into the midst
of a chomatic whirl.
When I tapped into the
synthesis of resonance and heat,
I took your hand --
we rode the wave.
And the clock had just struck nine.
Copyright ©2009 Anna Piutti


