Wednesday, May 18, 2005



my hands are clammy,
but they hold no pearls;
your hand holds hers,
but does hers hold back?
I am an extra
in your life’s grand sort of play:
valued some,
for conversation,
a stand-in, even,
when the leading lady
is occupied
with her leading man,
but as easily expunged
from memory
as she strings you on.
pearls on pearls,
your hands hold nothing -
encased in a milky shell.


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