They cracked the autumn open. Its broken yolk spilling everywhere. The yawn of the moon their only clue about where they were. How long since.
She bent down on chafed knees to force herself to look up at him. The petty of the moment sweating loud in her ears. As she filled in her answers to the questions still left.
True or false she wondered as she tripped on the difference.
He said he was lost. Broken ladders at every ascent.
Who isn't? So what?
We build our stairs from stumbles. At least until we've fallen far enough.
We stalk the zombies for as long as those graves are still fresh.
Scouring their skin for what it means to not be alone.
I guess I don't scrape that hard.
Wednesday
8/16/2006 12:05:00 AM
| Life Poems |