Wendy Videlock Hey You I dedicate this poem
to all the beautiful lovers
whose tender fingers turnedto claw at one another.
I have left this note
for the ordinary Joe
who forked the other roadand still became his father.
I'm looking to the woman
stubborn as a pile of brickswho gave her breath away
at the whisper of a kiss.
I am talking to those
mired, numb, or harrowed,twisted in the sheets,
or sleeping in the leaves
of ill-at-ease and sorrow.I am counting on those
for whom the bell tolls,
who've settled for the trees
but longed to walk on water.