CONVERSATION
by poet Elizabeth Bishop (deceased)
The tumult in the heart
keeps asking questions.
And then it stops and undertakes the answer
in the same tone of voice.
No one could tell the difference.
Uninnoccent, these conversations start,
and then engage the senses
only half meaning to.
And then there is no choice,
and then there is no sense;
until a name
and all its connotations are the same.
