The Smoke

You survive in them, they survive in you.
Separate strands of the same garment
gather to inter Gallen’s obedient Lady.
Enshrouded in watermelon roses and salt,

we now know how petals fall apart.
Our empty ears seek blips in the silence
and a consolatory voice’s frequency.
Revealed in a nebula of smoke,

three appeals are stuck in dry throats,
struggling to be acknowledged and answered.
But the book of bounty hides within our folds,
every last sentence…every last word.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s