Friday 6/03/2011 12:55:00 AM

the yolk is broken.
the shell is empty.
wearing her eyes in onion skins.
she traces the thin edges
that determine the center.
panting wolves
churning on their famine.

the depth is null.
the rim of the glass
the only divinity.

inside the eye
she struggles to see.
visions so vast.
they erase her
with every blink.
scribble her back in
at each opening.

she hits.
helpeless.
raindrops on glass.
the storm
just beginning.

| Alcoholic Poet Home |
Copyright 2005-2021. All Rights Reserved.