Friday, June 12, 2009

We clasped...

Slow rain; brown eyes see shadows...
they focus:
the seed and the locust;
the hearth and the porthole;
a fire burns with painted eyes.
We fall over
onto each other
once and for all.
And that is my pride,
my sore and my meadow.
You will be my shadow,
to follow me forever,
and blackness will be forgotten.

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