In her haste her mind cries dissonance,
stepping quicker, in foreign rhythms and
there remains nothing to consider
but a vagabond’s ruminations,
full of whisperings and husks.
Through her ears violin strings are
breaking, shrieking far past and
above the confusion in his voice,
he kisses splinters on her fingertips
but does not ask where she’s been climbing
lest he has not the strength to follow.
she looks to him still because he clamors
to find reflections in her pupils,
but she knows the furtive hues on her lip will draw her end,
sooner than she can bear to comprehend.
Created: Jul 17, 2010Document Media