Please? | Alyza Taguilaso

For the longest time the question lay quiet, tucking

its frail hands into pockets, keeping

that shy stare to the sidewalk, constructing

monuments from mounds of dust, sighing
to itself. Inside, something stirred:
a whirlpool waiting and aching

to be strewn into song, implanted

like stars on a patch of sky. This question picking at seams

for an answer that was once a name, a face, a farce,

a story made too well (perhaps), told
far too often, winding
tendrils around heart and ribcage, coiling

into the snakelike syllables of laughter, gripping
at your insides each time, fingers you hoped to fight -

this question and its clarity: soft, perfect, familiar

as the feel of the only hands you ever wanted left touching
your body, bearing the weight
of longing.

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One Comment on “Please? | Alyza Taguilaso”

  1. […] poems (Please? & When what we have is the absence) up in The […]


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