Shalom Grassy
I love this poem; your line breaks create that sense of breathlessness that
happens when a guy or gal talk to one another. I like the mundane
package/postman motiv; is splendid. I would remove some of the punctuation
as not necessary.
Are violas other than string instruments?
Your ending has that perfect sadness of unrequited promise.
kol tuv, Ryfkah
In a message dated 7/20/02 10:32:15 AM, [log in to unmask]
writes:
<< gateway
he hoped that she would ask him
in but she stands behind the gate
and chats softly, asks about
the postman, was he late, has
he called? she is going out
again, will not return until
the day after tomorrow, would
he take in a package if it came?
he stands beside the gate and
nods, of course, anything, after all,
that's what a neighbour's for,
and she smiles, goes down her path
past mounds of brightfaced violas,
and shuts the slick red door
behind her.
grasshopper >>
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