anew
the weight of spring rains
makes my chest hurt
my breath taste old
grey clouds press low
my shoulders curve down
hollow bones, trying
to touch the ground
like forsythia
able to grow from the soil,
young again.
Friday, August 12, 2005
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1 comment:
this is close to one from my list i work with,i think, sometimes, reading tons of poetry and listening to years of songs everything melts together like ice cream, but it comes from my bones and the yellow bushes outside of my home.
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