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Dark Poetry #4
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JenniferMaxwell
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since 2006-09-14
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0 posted 2007-07-27 09:11 AM


In dreams the smocks she wore for candling
            strung out like funnel clouds
were pinned
to lines in the cellar where
her winter brown geraniums

             parched desert flowers thirsting
             for hopeful light

filled every cobwebbed windowsill and the air
with the redolence of moldering
earth and  
        bitterness sharp as voices
that drew her down

        the basement stair to rooms
cemented safe from horrors
gleaming in the cutlery drawer

Scissors paper rock
time in water drops erodes and wears
        the stone to sand

Castles crumble all fall down
in rings of tarnished roses



© Copyright 2007 JenniferMaxwell - All Rights Reserved
moonbeam
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1 posted 2007-07-27 05:53 PM


Eek, tres tres bonne (or bon?), but I need cheering up this evening, bbl.

M

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