Monday 9/04/2006 01:47:00 AM

The rabbit's toe barely touched the hem. Of the comforter as it struggled to cover us. We were bigger than we'd ever been. Too busy carving toothpicks out of mountains to notice gravity's frown.

There is love like children do. With wicker baskets to catch the fallen fruit. And there love for adults. Open graves staring up from their holes. Cadavers wearing too much makeup.

Touching the hairs that make it real. We live in our bruised houses. Spit out our broken children. Waiting for the answer.

Faulting the moon for lies it never told.

I watch you spilling everywhere, but pretend I don't notice.

Leaving the luxury of death to you.

1 comments:
jason evans said...

I'm taking this poems in. Rolling them around in my brain.



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