Tuesday, August 17, 2010

* after the dogs *

* after the dogs *

 * after the dogs *
Limp swan curls inward
A broken number two
Right wing hangs dislocated
Summer blinds after storm
Those eyes which transfix
Seeds dead of hope
Lifting and falling on waves
Discarded mat of weeds
The end closer still
Green light at end of jetty
Feathers brittle and beak dry
The end none to soon.

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