Tuesday, January 7, 2014

Then

Then opens a palm
that holds dirt and glass
and drips rivulets of red,

and tightens a fist,
and with pale finger-walls she hides
like mist, she hides.

But Then's eyes delude
and like Tantalus' food,
she steps back when I grasp,

yet we cannot part. Be
my shadow, Then,
and I always your heart.


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