Thursday, April 24, 2008

Carrying a Torch

I was walking
furiously grey with morning sleep
that didn't come    rain
full of hip-hop     drum
beat on pavement    bass
mock to my discontent
on the coal
smoke from the chimneys
when I saw the sparrow
my tears fell hard
as the pile of feathers
cold on the dead ground
until nothing was dry
something had died -

O love,
where is your hand?

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