Urgent ducklings chase phantom swans. Life advertised in thunder. Rumbles, but seldom strikes. Torn boots taste her feet. Like the pollen from dead flowers. Determined to live again.
The bridge opens. She circles. Watching the world slip through the hole. The edge always as close as it is distant. She imagines how far she might go. If her legs were willing. If the road were negotiable.
A lazy moon caught in the gravity of a stagnant planet. Easy witches and tender wolves. Ruin the story for the hero.
The liar turns. Patent white ghost. Coins all counted. Trenches solved. The math waits for her to acknowledge the decimal. So many leftovers.
The future finds her. Before she does it. A goblin in cold shoes. Pretending to know how long it's been. Since anything mattered.
Flesh like thunderstorms. Empty and loud. Blood like ghosts. Dead enough. The simple poison of touch. Begins to solve her.
Monday
3/12/2012 12:53:00 AM
Sad Labels:
free form
,
loneliness
,
puzzles
| Life Poems |