OUTLASTING MOTHS
7/09/2009
Talking to Bones
Who will tell the bones
the night is here,
their ebony clothes
dissolving like salt
in water?
Beneath the stones,
the little ones, cold,
grey and waiting
to seize the sun;
against their rounded
bellies
I whisper
sleep, bones, sleep.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Newer Post
Older Post
Home
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment