A Visitor
has taken up residence
on my mother’s front step.
He stays for hours
and listens patiently
to every word she says.
I wonder what he knows,
how much he understands.
I wonder what she thinks
when she speaks to him.
Are her words really
what they seem?
Or are they distant bells
that ring in the name
of who she is?
June 29, 2006
Previous Entry Next Entry Return to Songs and Letters About the Author
Main Page
Author’s Note
Background
Notebook
A Listening Thing
Among the Living
No Time to Cut My Hair
One Hand Clapping
Songs and Letters
Collected Poems
Early Short Stories
Armenian Translations
Interviews
News and Reviews
Highly Recommended
Let’s Eat
Favorite Books & Authors
Useless Information
Conversation
E-mail & Parting Thoughts
Flippantly Answered Questions