Sapling


She is standing before me in

Some wretched sharp-boned pose. Dreams shift-

Ing light pierces translucent thin,

shrink-wrapped skin. Her glorious grin

Dispossessed by fraught, frightened eyes.

Now, with thoughts obsessions first

Caress, each part of me that dies

Sees another path; the less cursed.

Stumbling in my own dark, bleak cor-

Ridors I fiercely hunt in love’s slow,

Impotent style after hope or

Hope’s trailing, tragic shadow.

Published by

The Sleepcoat League

Armchair anthropologist, sometime scribe, freelance philosopher, amateur artist, part-time poet, musical maven, alliteration aficionado.

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