Fall like contusions of blossom rich burdens
Remember that time
The incisors clipped a finger off
The door clipped off this voice, that voice
From all the hallways long growth
Then there were shadows longer like ghosts
Of someone, of the finger clawing her
Breath back to bonnet the air
To the fall flower in purple shade
Like the bruise marching up from the
Shirtline.
Light edges out to make early some catastrophe
Of thinking.
I felt ok for the length of a sunset
And then the doors closed.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
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