anne.seebach.poetry

I want to read to you
a poem

though the words
I don’t know yet

it was never finished

or maybe just lost

so let me tell
the shape of it 
instead 

it begins 
a whisper 
of dissonant font
an uneven beat

mind’s eye
snags and skitters

but there
at the heart of it
empathy buds
rose-pink

teardrop ink 
falls soft 
as the last line 
pains 
across the page 

… silence