Sunday, January 30, 2011

Morbid violin

Touch me
with the flame of an autumn

I witness the sage foliage
blazing without smoke
no odor of burnt skin

Leaves plummet in graveyard silence
wingless birds

Year after year
an unknowing wind spreads the embers
making me more insipid

The intransigence of death sounds itself
in the ennui of a stifled morn
watching each accursed bird
descend with dull thump

Now you can torch me
with the venom of love

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