Monday, March 26, 2007

Wait with Me

I sit, weighted with sad heart
thinking of blue-sea sky.
If my eyes could see yours now,
I would sail forever.

This pain is choking.
A strangle of a hand
a bright red cut around the throat.

The silence mourns you
the overcast light
mirrors my tone.

Nothing here,
the freckled heads
of sun now wail wildly,

as I await judgment,
await the noose around neck
when loud, low sound of terror
will slowly come.

If nails were long enough
they would be my knives -
they would spill out my life
cut ribbon-red goodness.

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