Saturday, May 26, 2012

Sleeping with Promises

The empty nightgown
            hanging on the door.
            its bodiless shape
                        the vacuity of hope
                                    that resurrection is more than myth.

            The sleeveless wonder
of remembered arms, fingers
                        frozen in a single

Whole visions emerge
            from thinning fabric
                        cloth returning
                                    to threaded
            patterns of provocation
                        casus belli.

Wisps of delight and destruction
                        hidden in shapeless folds
                                    soft, cool to the touch
                                                utterly empty...yet full.

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