Henry Thinks About Frances

If I could learn to throw my voice,
I could be as secret as

a grave full of pebbles,

tell you things without telling you
anything, as we walk

over that same leaf

in the street until it falls apart.
I could be as quiet as

the streetlight, only humming
a little to myself,

an air.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s