Poem-A-Day. Day 20. What goes unsaid.

Some things are better left unsaid

 

What if he’d died and I never told him?

she cried, as the ashes kept burning.

Must we say everything before we die?

Even when words are fish hooks

and all that we catch is each other?

We know it is easier to see the emperor

than it is to recognize how nakedly naked we,

all of us, gawkingly stand.

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