Saturday, March 19, 2011

a name

a know-nothing non-something,
a song, a back-slap,
a tree without sap.
crowned with ceremony
and melancholia-
a whistle, a snap.

a marriage of two curtains,
initials-a distance-an election
a combination of letters,
matches faceless reflection
that becoming broken glass performs
a mother-father-less C-section.

a little girl.
a broken spine.
I don't give you yours
but you gave me mine.
this inner debate
will it ever diminish?
an ubiquitous start,
an infamous finish.

3 comments:

Reach for the clouds. . .

Tickle your toes. . .

Poets United Contributor