the stars, the sea, and sleep.

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Visiting Hours

A skeleton hung from a string
Against your closed window.
I was once a medium
And saw it from the other side,
I spoke to the future as the present,
A past that had long since died,
And was tied up in her beauty.
Mute me and fade to black,
Put my gift next to your ear,
And speak to anyone but me.
The sky is still as blue as I remember
And there is a piercing belief,
In a leaf turned red in bloody death,
That warmth will be born before December.

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