Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Poem
Prick thy fingers
If just to tear away
one reality-
only to reveal another;
just under the surface
nearly unperceivable
like a whisper, a dream
a word upon the tip of your tongue
a turn of phrase
or a rhyme.
No, something far more sinister-
and unkind
a blackened shadow in a dark hall
a wound from a fall forgotten
something out of reach
menacing still
a veil, a hummed song
out of tune,
your being watched by you
from beyond this screen
unable to tear yourself awake
only looking
for the sake of waiting.
A scream unheard but seen
A clawing grimace pulled
And this masque isn't
One you lift off,
It is pulled over you
one blanket too much
and too warm for these
-these hot summer nights
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1 comment:
Is that your finger?
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