Near, not Close

You're like everyone else I've ever
Known. Our hands are, how would
You say it? Congruent? Palm is
To palm, and the pads of our
Fingers are proximate, but there's
A plate of glass, and the words
We are saying seem similar.
See how they weave in their
Way, but they pass by each
Other without really touching,
And we who are speaking are
Speaking as if we are from
Separate planets and paths
Which, while unlike, have
Happened to lead us to pause,
To put palms to this pane.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 16 times
Written on 2013-02-26 at 00:59

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