For Bruce "Heartbeat" Edwards
...the language always fails
even her best attempts
to convey how he moves
the wind around
in the attic where her
dreams are born
return void…
she wakes,
the urgency to conjure him
is palpable
she writes
yet the blending of sounds, the coupling
of consonants to vowels, the
words birthed from mono/multi-syllables
punctuation - all of it
still falls short
of who he is
and
how he drives her sweetly
to the edge of sanity
within the hallowed
space between
her temples
deep
inside her house
there is another stirring;
evidence of
open gates,
embers glowing warmly upon
the hearth,
doors ajar
no forcible entry ~
no strangers here...
she pauses her pen
to begin again
but
there is no adequate way
for her to say
he.is.the.key.
from the manuscript, "The Woman in My Attic"
...the language always fails
even her best attempts
to convey how he moves
the wind around
in the attic where her
dreams are born
return void…
she wakes,
the urgency to conjure him
is palpable
she writes
yet the blending of sounds, the coupling
of consonants to vowels, the
words birthed from mono/multi-syllables
punctuation - all of it
still falls short
of who he is
and
how he drives her sweetly
to the edge of sanity
within the hallowed
space between
her temples
deep
inside her house
there is another stirring;
evidence of
open gates,
embers glowing warmly upon
the hearth,
doors ajar
no forcible entry ~
no strangers here...
she pauses her pen
to begin again
but
there is no adequate way
for her to say
he.is.the.key.
from the manuscript, "The Woman in My Attic"