I saw 


And in the end was silenced 

As though

I’d never seen at all


Somehow the comforts 

of my youth 

have fallen 

empty
With their 

rebuked

chides 

and 

now,

utter naïveté 
I’m the poet you read when I’m dead 

I’m the paperback with no cover 

at the beach in the blaring sun

I’m the story never told 

til I could hurt no more 

moon and sky
fire and ice

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s