Tuesday, 6 September 2011

Bone Dry

Seven years I've sat in this cave
watching the sky lift and fold.
Shucked shells where my eyes were blue
My lips, a fossil kiss. The desert wind
blown through the hollows of my bones.


I've survived the silence by eating 
my words. So do not ask me if I love;
I have nothing left to say. 
Just hold the husk of my hand in yours.
Pray for something good. 





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