Tuesday, July 14, 2009

Prayers, Portraits, Post-Its (29)


You planted the bomb that made a fuse
of her otherwise ribboned, striving days;
and loosed strange worms to churn into sand
all her carefully cultivated land;
and blackened her memory with chars and twists
I have longed to revisit on you with fists–
except you absconded long ago
taking all that she knew, leaving all that she knows.

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