That Girl From Babylon (Poem Every Day: 3)

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On a dirt road off the interstate

I met a girl from Babylon

And nobody would meet her eyes

They kept their hands at their sides

She had a canvas bag full of hearts

But not one of them was mine


Somewhere past the borough line

Past a cracked, white wooden door

There's steam and there is slope

Leaking batteries and Kentile Floors


In an abandoned lot full of graves

I saw that girl from Babylon

She's not the same as they say

There's ivy growing in her irises

She's dancing empty-handed and alone

If only we could rest, give in, and let go


I'll give up my coins, my luck, my frail, little light

I'll give that girl whatever's in her sight

Sleeping in and dreaming of aviary sounds

Lost boy and lost girl, tired hare and quiet hounds


I've got an old trunk full of words for you

Things too heavy for the sparrow's beak

So, if you've found light in any of this forest

The first words are yours to speak

Created: Apr 03, 2014

Tags: poem every day, girl, three, love, babylon, poetry, new york city, prose, dark

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