blog of poet, leah umansky

Tell Me

Tell me,                                what it was like

to trumpet this around.

And tell me         what it was like

The small

Under-current at your heels

*

The other day, I thought I heard your laugh

I sat on the couch, head rolled back

a cackle from my throat

Stared at the door like a fool, then

I knew it:            I am part of the lonely.

Even my laugh is uncoupled.

These are the moments  I am supposed to give to myself.

These partial portraits.

*

Tell me:                is it hard to be reflexive?

It must be hard to keep going back to

you.

(c) Umansky 2010