11 April 2006


Let's get to the edge of this uneasy quiet,
Hang bending at the end of a branch.
Can we sway long enough to finish
Subject-shifting and pocket-paper tearing?

There is time for you to study the edge of my skirt
and I, the tip of your shoe
--did you ever notice those scuff marks?
Or I, that loose thread?--

If we can creep softly enough
To the arching borders of this pause,
Perhaps in the silence we'll remember
What strangers we really are.

Wait for the breaking branch,
Dropping into regions beyond words.
In falling we'll unfold
And be known.


Pauletta said...

oh hannah, this is so beautiful!
did you write that?

j truitt said...

hannah. nice work. that part about the skirt and scuff marks...holy buckets. it's good.

when are we gonna hook up and do some mars hill talking? speaking of which...did you get all pumped when mike started talking about the real mars hill on sunday? i did.

Allie said...

if the moon was made of scuff marks, would you eat it?

aesthetic realist said...


melissa said...

hannah, could it be you are getting into poetry.. :)

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