Ten

by Audrey Griffin

 

I wish there were another word for love.

 

Curse this language, only having one word to

Shoulder all possible

Interpretations until they

Are done to death and none

Of them could ever

Be true.

A word for a more

Profound bond,

A word for I barely know who

You are, but I sorely need

You. A word to encompass

All of those lost feelings,

Frayed ends of incomplete thoughts,

Strung out

Nowhere

Every which way

All over

And out.

A word for each look,

A word for each glance,

A word for each of these hand-trembling

Moments that aren’t sure

Where to go,

Ambiguous little

Things, tiny little insignificant things

All cut up, strewn over

The sea, an ocean, a tidal wave

on a small coastal village.

 

 

 

 

 

Copyright 2012

Audrey Griffin