I tend the mobile now
like an injured bird.
We text, text, text
our significant words.
I re-read your first,
your second, your third,
look for your small xx,
feeling absurd.
The codes we send
arrive with a broken chord.
I try to picture your hands,
their image is blurred.
Nothing my thumbs press
will ever be heard.
Tagged: carol ann duffy, love poem, love poetry, poet, poetry, relationship, romance, text, text poem

[…] “Text” by Carol Ann […]
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fuck
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u my friend are a jerk for saying that in front of me a little kid
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u shouldn’t say ur age online just so yk
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no lives matter
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what up gamal
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i am good unlike miles
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shut up
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nah
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