the stars, the sea, and sleep.

Sunday, May 15, 2011

Minor Piner

When I fell I did not make a sound
Bows cocked like a lost sneeze,
A poetic tragedy, snapped to my knees.
When life flashed it stuck to my irises
Like sticky resin paused in the frame,
Stripping me down like an aching tree
Burning my bark and coming to me.
I could see the cotton lipstick
That you had kissed into the sky,
You were sending smoky signals
That were just vapors in a sigh.

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