Thursday, February 5, 2009

in the palm of your hand

Lyre bird calls
to tell us lies
and you, my muse,
have amused me
with the morning coffees 
and coughing chorus
and that talk of soldiering 
with the solder.
You keep secrets in the
palm of your hand
like little scars
and acronyms
and I'm not sure
you'll open them 
to me...

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