Thursday, November 10, 2011

two poems

Nov 2nd

Is nothing sacred?
And where, if not in this place
Do bared feet tread holy ground?
No one is afraid not to hear
"Remove your sandals, for the ground on which you stand is holy ground."
Is there so little ground
that so few must unlace their boots?
Or is it now, when we must wash each other's feet,
That the ground on which we stand is holy?

Nov 3rd - Nov 9th

The leaves are falling off of the trees
we spend our idle hours (of which there are few)
holding hands, together in the reading glen
in the place where
I first said that I kinda liked you
you told me I had an adorable face
I told you that I thought you were beautiful
and you told me to shut up
but your eyes shone like wet tortoise shells.

That was back when we were seventeen
we were still scared of saying "I love you"
I'm still scared because you may think I'm nice
but I'm aware of my own volatility
for now, we'll satisfy ourselves with looks of
mutually held but un-communicated feeling.

But you better watch yourself girl, because one of these days
I will probably get down on one knee
ask you a yes or no question
I'm telling you this now so that when that day comes
you won't be too surprised
you won't be flustered
and you'll have thought of an answer
and you'll say "Yes."

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