Obviously no one would describe
a conversation as “a fight”
if it were not animated,
demonstratively emotional
and probably loud. Unless
they were close enough
to make out words. Then
they might: because fights
of the conversational kind
can be conducted with even
tone and equanimity, and
regardless devastation unleashed.
The blows register all through.
The reactions are held, postponed
for later grief. Wanting to keep it
together. Wanting, perhaps, to spot
avenue of rescue offered, or opening
up to dart and seize. Escape
from the words pouring in,
building up,
tightening their vise. Maybe
we could get out of this. We
could make words mean anything,
if the other agrees.
A Pocketful of Poesy was and is again a Poem-a-Day(-on-Average) Blog! For 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, and now for 2017 and going forward, you may expect to see 365 poems every year, 366 for leap years.
but aren't they all random?
Saturday, December 31, 2022
not a fight
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