she can’t recall the waiting
or the lengthening sky
her sorrow drapes awkwardly
from three corners of a quiet moment

the ghostly ache of a stradavarius
keeps time with turbulence
couples the sounding ruins
like a narrative of vultures
burning sermons to lesser bodies

her crops die in the fields
withered roots reject the grounding

and from the darkening comes
an assemblage of words she hasn’t
written yet

a poem untold

lah  7.11.15


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