Poetry and Prose from the Center for Writers
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by COREY LATTA
What the We
we the silence slipped
............from times when words
........................spoke into being,
....................................nothing now is that was
............not from words
we the else unspeakable,
............shades from metaphors
we the annunciation deaf,
............the magnificat misknew
we the earth groaning
............low under the weight
........................of inglorious creeds
we the kindling dark
............damp under the altar
........................of no burnt offering
The Puzzle and Past
The puzzle lay half pieced
on our dining
room table.
James Dean in white
and black strutting up street
with cars like memories
whizzing by
He walked under whispered
cheers of laughter,
stories told late nights,
when the world
was nothing more than catching
each others eye
the brush of hands
while digging around
vexed to finish that flat grey sky,
how we desired to remake
that perfect box top
now James Dean is buried
somewhere in my basement
and you are gone
and I am gone
and our worlds apart are bits
broken without smooth
edges.
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