the dangling conversation

it's a still life water color

of a now late afternoon

as the sun shines through the curtained lace

and shadows wash the room. and we sit and drink our coffee

couched in our indifference

like shells upon the shore

you can hear the ocean roar

in the dangling conversation

and the superficial sighs

the borders of our alliance. and you read your emily dickinson

and i my robert frost

and we note our place with bookmarkers

that measure what we've lost. like a poem poorly written

we are verses out of rhythm

couplets out of rhyme

in syncopated time

and the dangled conversation

and the superficial sighs

are the borders of our alliance. yes

we speak of things that matter

with words that must be said

can analysis be worthwhile?"