15 June 2010


Marrowbone 6/15

Slick the soft spaces - beak over dark
            You are brittle - failing

A lone aspen shaking the morning cold at the void
            Bruised clouds pooling above

Of course you are brittle - of course
            The mountain is tall - menacing

Always chalk-like
            Your body a bamboo of milkweed

That gnawing over yourself - hungry
            Bleeding gums - the instant

Echoing in a gun chamber - roulette
            Pounding - thumping

No comments:

Post a Comment