Saturday, July 19, 2014

Provoked a tanka sequence


her message
accuses me of stealing
the key
to the world's voice...
I pluck a flower

her words
burning my chest
like a brand . . .
at the center of the drama
the foolish belief of wrong doing

she grins,
a coyote with old eyes,
as I tell my story
with the grace
of a deadly weapon

No comments:

Post a Comment

Blog Archive