Saturday, April 30, 2011

funerals for dragonflies

artfully, the silverwings, on the dying day,
complement the red barrow soaked in dapples
of lace-patterned shadows.

the comodification beneath the enchanting words
is enough to fuel the ire of her superficial
auburn strands.

but tremors only plague the corners of her mouth
as the steady gaze reveals all knowledge;
the truth is constantly obscured.

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