Context

No passage surrounds that which is said.
We are sitting at a dinner party - your tawny
hair has grown long upon your neck -
and the next thing you say makes no sense:

nothing. Your lips move to accept the rim
of the glass, I try the spinach salad drizzled
with sweet and sour sauce - delicious -
and since this is not the place

to weave sense into meaning,
we leave well enough alone, timing arrivals
and noting departures, those interruptions
without which we couldn't begin to say.

first published in Poetry Super Highway



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      Elaine Thomas is a poet/photographer living in the desert southwest, where most of the time it's warmer than elsewhere. She co-edits interweave(zine) with Kurt Nimmo, and is also the photography and art director of Erosha, a literary journal of the erotic. Her work has appeared in a variety of print and online publications.

'concession'
'Some Room in an Unspecified City'
'fetal position'
poetry/elaine thomas -Kurt Nimmo music accompaniment