Listeners by Rebecca Lizard Lessons, you say, that ought to be learned. Holding open the door. In the classroom: lines on the chalkboard; stick figures, bodies Slanting forward as if walking into wind. You turn. You say, What's The best way out of here? Or you say, What's your best shot? |
Your turn.
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Echo or entire: your mouth, your sigh, your smile. I remember. Never sought or promised; you disarm me. Picture of a wheat field: Even the sky is empty. |
Promiscuous or promises or – something between us.
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Refinished, sleepy, set by the wayside. Eggshell crackling and Sun drifting across the sky. You finish talking. This story's told. |