Sunday, July 19, 2009

Being

See this open darkly
recent in the air

a chilling taste of rust
an urge to hold breaths

and hear the roll
of a tongue against
skin eluding mine.

I do not mean hunger
I do not mean to lament
I do not mean complacence

I do not mean to speak
I do not mean reliance
I do not mean to forget

much to last and that is all
there is for the frail.

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