[ .and.she.left,the.next.day. ]
even when I define, all the things I mean, rounded out in silences, those vignettes lost in late hours, she's calling out, bridging gaps in words worn-out, as the little things she says, cannot reach their errant destination, cannot breach the intricate nets for defence she's built up, wailing in all surround, her hollow hands hugging close, her narrow minded feet, pushing away, at each slender step, as the ground pounds further away, between myself and her toe-tagged digits.
© Bryan McLean June 15, 2010
082/100:2
even when I define, all the things I mean, rounded out in silences, those vignettes lost in late hours, she's calling out, bridging gaps in words worn-out, as the little things she says, cannot reach their errant destination, cannot breach the intricate nets for defence she's built up, wailing in all surround, her hollow hands hugging close, her narrow minded feet, pushing away, at each slender step, as the ground pounds further away, between myself and her toe-tagged digits.
© Bryan McLean June 15, 2010
082/100:2
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