“Conversation is precarious.”
—Anne Carson
near here someone waits
they are there patient and sublime
in their waiting as if purpose
were only an excuse to wake
once more into conversation
especially one decades old
where the edges decayed
softened in the thick of time
become vague ambiguous
easier to misunderstand
to trust the distorted echos
before falling away into silence
like pebbles off cliff walls
fall into a foggy crevasse
(March 18, 2025)
subtext 