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June 18, 2009

Tell me this poem doesn’t exist on paper and needs
the red movement of a mouth.
Tell me you are in the poem.
Your lips wrap every word,
brown packaging, mailed first-class,
for the trip across the country between us.
Tell me we’ll never say this poem.
Tell me we can ride through
today in a winter of quiet.

The only papers in my wallet are lists —
groceries and wishes. Tell me these things
fill the blank flat space in its folds.
Don’t speak of emptiness or silence.

Emptiness hitched across the country,
silence filled the country.

by Gregory Stapp

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  1. June 18, 2009 at 1:56 pm

    Go Greg. Woohoo!

  2. June 19, 2009 at 8:13 am

    wonderful. love the haptic in this, the anticipation, the space between. in a way, i rushed into silence here.

  3. June 19, 2009 at 8:50 am

    this is one of my favorites so far in this issue! “needs/ the red movement of mouth” is wonderful!

  4. Joy
    June 19, 2009 at 10:54 am

    Really lovely. Falls from the lips like liquid mercury, perfect silvery drops.

  5. June 29, 2009 at 11:28 am

    I love the movement between the stanzas in this poem. Sensual world in the first, emotional in the second, observed/cognitive in the third. Beautiful language, thank you.

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