Voces tiernas

My mind was a twitching hamstring
last night, running through moonlight.

My father was alive
again and we were remembering

When he was a dentist before and after
his engineering days, and something

About a chain mail suit of armor, and
the only true thing was his voice.

When you are at work before dawn
you are the only soul on Earth

And there is little comfort
in the voices on the radio that speak

To us like aliens reading the news
from Mars or Andromeda. Voices

Trying to connect, like you, sweetness
and pain, with an aura of mint and strong rum

Speaking to me across the night
from south to north, like a weary spring migrant.

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About Ray Sharp

Father, poet, triathlete, local public health planner
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2 Responses to Voces tiernas

  1. Chagall says:

    You have succeeded wonderfully here on many levels. The juxtaposition of images to evoke those peculiar sensations is brilliant. Poet’s tenor and rhythm sounds a bit like Billy Collins. —Chagall

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