Sunday, May 17, 2009

A Poem by Richard Vetere

Richard Vetere
When we first met,
I wanted to give you my eyes, my teeth, my hands.
I asked you to wear my fingers and learn my voice
and memorize how my lips were shaped when silent.
So, you wore my eyes and my hands
and you found some reason to memorize my lips
and learn what my voice sounded like without
my fingers and my teeth.
But when you left
You never gave any of it back.
I hear you still wear my fingers and my eyes
my teeth and my hands.
Are you a cannibal, or is there something religious
going on here?

Richard will appear at The Gazebo on 6/22.

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