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One Remains




One Remains

Sure of her weapons, your toes threaded
in dust, shored against the truth
cavalier of her lime-spun tales.
Parched grass drags the trail
pulling tatters of your tongue
into its hollow arms, children
of forgotten stories, given weight, breath.
Your lips close on their beds
sheets twisted on your teeth.
Restless volleys now warmed
in careful fingers,
brown and gold
split
by autumn’s weakened earth.

Sure of anything but this:
Her spine, bent to the east
hair - tumbled grass
breaking through the field
abandoning the path
bringing her narrow truth beyond
the barrage, careless
of your war.

Comments

( 2 comments — Leave a comment )
caffienekitty
Feb. 27th, 2013 07:44 am (UTC)
Not only is this very cool and eloquent, it's got an intriguing visual almost-shape element to it that makes you want to figure out what the shape is. Kind of a rorschach poem?
ciaranbochna
Feb. 27th, 2013 08:00 am (UTC)
lol well thank you:) They do have symmetry at times, though it is usually accidental.

Edited at 2013-02-27 08:01 am (UTC)
( 2 comments — Leave a comment )