Tuesday 10/24/2006 11:55:00 PM

And then
everything was quiet.

The ceiling crashed
into the floor.
With a bulimic cough.
Angular and anemic.

The caviar of so many hearts.

Dead things
served on crackers.
Their only flavor
in how much they cost.

He was a priest.
And a comedian.
And everything else
all people are.

I was a child.
And a poet.
And everything

I've always been
since the day
that I was born.

We were laying there
in a sea of skin.
Like the strangers we were.

When the door opened
and the walls
all decided to fall.

And everything

was quiet again.

1 comments:
Leah said...

This is such a good poem xx



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