new zealand electronic poetry centre

J O R D A N    S T E M P L E M A N


poem for my wife while listening to candi staton


how long has it been

that we've passed

up, if you leave

I'll die, if I

never loved

another, that would mean

captivity, but how

I still can't stand

to say goodbye,

we know that fish

have no hands,

I would still

wait, wrap what

I had around, and

walk you home without
saying so




sore and well

no sore in well enough

small enough

so considered

painfully there well into ears

there considering

its pain and my size


Last updated 27 April, 2006