the stars, the sea, and sleep.

Friday, December 12, 2008

I Hope It's Golden...

Down from your hook, you hung your prize
A butcher shop to hungry eyes...
Shining meats of size and shape
From Puget Sound out to the Cape.
You dropped the line and I bit down hard
Bleeding mouth and disregard.
Yet deadly silence held your throat tight
From clicking heart in numbers, so the only light
Came from the clouds soaked in city light glow
And the fresh layer of this Hollywood snow.

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