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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