white room, four lights
the girl has red eyes, they reflect crescent moons
planes that fall into each other
exploding into a vacuum pupil. a star
she speaks, no words.
I speak, I think; I think, I understand,
she laughs. what can you understand? she asks
I cant bring myself to
Ward Maxwell, © 1976/ 2914
<another poem from Borders — wm>
Peterborough Poets 