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3 Poems - Mariah E. Wilson

11/16/2013

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Picture
Holding it in

Life
A series 
Of pregnant
Pauses
All waiting
For the next 
Big moment
To exhale


-


The Volume of Silence


We speak

Yet silence echoes eternally

drawkcaB

Conversations

Fill volumes that go for decades

But say

Nothing

It’s like everything 
We say

Is scrawled on fragile parchment

In a language neither of us

Reads


-


The End of Daydreams

You’re too late!
The time for play is over.
Gone are the bats and gloves.
Away are the ice skates and hockey sticks,
Football is a memory now faded.
The sunshine has been put away.
You’ll find it in the closet,
above the box of weekends, 
next to the bucket rainbows.
Your playmates have disappeared,
locked in their dungeons.
You stroll down the deserted avenues
playing kick-the-can
with your hands in your pockets.
Then, with your army of one,
you capture your own flag.
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