Far bank quivering from heat-haze,
her profile etched on aureate air
turned to glass from a liquid inferno
flowing unchecked beneath the deck
She turns away, he groans, animal howl,
hands raised to cheeks tortured cheeks,
palms come away filled with fire that
tracks down their bodies, into the water
Tolling hearts become broken bells
and speakers for the dead, who understand
bridges burn but cannot accept tears
setting the river afire that they may not cross
05 January 2011
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Every once in a while (and I mean rarely), I read a blog post somewhere that expands my vocabulary. Thank you. Now I'm gonna go eat some aureate Honey Smacks (see? even the spellchecker doesn't know that word... :D ).
ReplyDeleteawwww, this is searing, gumbo :-)
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