Friday, October 22, 2010

wet stones

wet stones

no one understands him as I do
i hear fervid winds in the stillness of his hands

[no one rubbed my narrow walls as he did 
we danced to death's song without any
recollection of another life]

i claim two sighs and a large garland 
but if he's never to return we'll drown this grief together 

wet stones
orbiting restless echoes in a drop of rain

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