A poem for the authors: Dots


In my fingering of this cliff edge

When dusk turns to darkness

A corner turns my being and I

Lose nerve.

In my reading, the scanning and gripping,

New pages but I suddenly see your name,

Quotations hugging a sentence

I’ve already loved,

A name I’ve already trusted,

And I sigh in relief.

I am following a path,

I am tracing a charted way,

I am not alone,

And in the reading and the writing

Shapes are forming.

Like a connect the dots array,

Long lengths between numbers,

Oh what a joy to see you,

A familiar face I’ve not seen, a sign,

Just when my hands were slipping.


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