Sunday, August 22, 2010

Found poetry

We hid our faces
behind masks
that suggested other histories;
we touched hands
accidentally and our skin
sparked like a personal revolution.

We stared
across the room at each other,
waited for the conversation
and the conversion,
watched wasps and flies
battering against the windows.

We were children;
we were open mouths.
Open in hunger, in anger,
in laughter, in prayer.

Jesus, we all want to survive.

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