The milk in your breast has
soured
and silence of desert tombs
echoes through your heart
Those eyes,
once whirling gypsy skirts
mouth red cartwheels, tambourines,
night fires, dark and moist
invite — wilderness
Birds caught on thorns
flail
like arms that reach out to
nowhere
slowly delivering HIM, piece by
piece
to lurking crocodiles
Your children, tiny white candles
gather flowers to fill the chasm
form a human bridge, a link
an aisle for you to walk down
only this time
Alone
Marble eyes weep real tears
Trumpets greet
ISIS resurrected
takes her place, whole, strong
Transcendental
inside the chamber of
Kings
Mar 2, 2013
Mar 2, 2013 at 6:09 PM UTC
The milk in your breast has
soured
and silence of desert tombs
echoes through your heart
Those eyes,
once whirling gypsy skirts
mouth red cartwheels, tambourines,
night fires, dark and moist
invite — wilderness
Birds caught on thorns
flail
like arms that reach out to
nowhere
slowly delivering HIM, piece by
piece
to lurking crocodiles
Your children, tiny white candles
gather flowers to fill the chasm
form a human bridge, a link
an aisle for you to walk down
only this time
Alone
Marble eyes weep real tears
Trumpets greet
ISIS resurrected
takes her place, whole, strong
Transcendental
inside the chamber of
Kings
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