WORDS by Kelsey Erin Shipman
I cannot write a poem for you.
Words stick in my collar bones,
anchor to ribcage,
I collapse on commas
before I reach the end of the page.
I have given so many words to you
there are none left for ink.
God forbid we use air
to discuss how we feel & think!
Between us there was color,
a palette of possibility.
Though now it only seems appropriate
to record this in shades of gray…
a familiar feeling of stillness,
syllables run dry,
there’s nothing but punctuation
at the end of you & me.
//ww
Words stick in my collar bones,
anchor to ribcage,
I collapse on commas
before I reach the end of the page.
I have given so many words to you
there are none left for ink.
God forbid we use air
to discuss how we feel & think!
Between us there was color,
a palette of possibility.
Though now it only seems appropriate
to record this in shades of gray…
a familiar feeling of stillness,
syllables run dry,
there’s nothing but punctuation
at the end of you & me.
//ww