Thursday Evening

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Curl up with the blinds down
Pile on another     quilt
drift away to dreams

of blood and cranes and snakes...

Pining for spice and
mustard seeds of life

-----ARE we ever done?
(does death do us in?)

My prepositions are hanging on
 my propositions waning
I can feel my body break-
ing.

The cold wind
draws in doubt

an arthritic knee catches

pass on pills
pick up a cup
but the poison has lost its luster

Created: Aug 01, 2012

Tags: poetry

justy Document Media