He walks in silence, within delicate air,
and holds his clouds in his fist, afraid
of letting them go.
He won’t notice as he bares thousands
of knives in his
back and walks with empty pockets.
It is grim to not find an escape, a little
room where all blades vanish
and no pockets exist.
May 16, 2011
May 16, 2011 at 3:02 PM UTC
He walks in silence, within delicate air,
and holds his clouds in his fist, afraid
of letting them go.
He won’t notice as he bares thousands
of knives in his
back and walks with empty pockets.
It is grim to not find an escape, a little
room where all blades vanish
and no pockets exist.
published 2001 in The Pacific Review (vol 19). A magazine of Art & Literature, by the Department of English at California State University, San Bernardino.
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