Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Clair de lune

hang low in the sky the moments before
they meet. toes cold for chasing her and wet
cheek bones; they'll find nourishment here.

perhaps. 

it is more like he has lost his own heart;
and ripped from him before he noticed
it beating; left on the concrete sidewalk
of her.

or better still. 

she has ran and sat in thorn bushes
before convincing herself, swaying
is the only possible motion. 

but then.

(applause)


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