The Red Pain of Distance
The quiver in your voice touches me
and how I imagine your hands moving
over the items of your desk,
picking up little things and setting them aside
without really seeing what they are.
And I hear your smile
and the hairs of your beard curve
as you lick your lips and laugh lightly,
a fluttering that makes me stop in wonder
waiting for it again.
We pause, we breathe, we pause again until
your little groan of agony binds me to
the disappointment I feel
when our conversation ends,
as called away, you must go.
–Red Haircrow
26 September 2011
This poem and others were published Sibling Rivalry Press’ Assaracus Magazine and other publications. On-site ther poetry very much related to love for the particular Irishman, for which this poem was written.
Red Haircrow 
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