Wednesday, March 19, 2014

Genesis 40: In Writing

There were stars
night air
and broad, fecund fields
long days that grew ripe and heavy
overflowing in sun-warm wine

Once, I was there
called by your presence
present in your face
questing in scattered fields
lost, but found

Now the years eat my flesh
light hidden in a thicket
of tangled vines
they put me in a pit
haunted by nothing
and nothingness
my voice  echoes in silence
swims in emptiness

To be outside
rise on beating wings
bones feather light
skin lucent
as a cave-dwelling creature
flesh exposed on the highest trees
eater and eaten

floating in my hollow scream

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