prisoner’s cinema
sitting quietly in meditation
looking at the wall, I see
your face in the grain of the wood
the whorls and knots and loops
become your eyes, your mouth
the smooth curve of your jaw
at night, while the rain beats against
the skylight, I hear your voice
the rise and fall of its melodies
accompanied by the percussion
of the falling water
walking through the humid air
of an Alabama summer
I feel your fingers slip into mine
I turn my head to smile at you
see only the silent houses
22 July 2013
Auburn AL
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This poems was inspired by the first episode of the podcast Here Be Monsters.
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