Friday, July 06, 2007

poem: run

Run

She longs to run
run on crushed gravel
hard silk
broken glass

run as if she is tasting
freedom for the first time
like a prisoner trapped in a dark hole
seeing the first sun rise in years,
or a deaf man feeling the first
tricklings of music into his ears.

cuts of silk across her feet
embedded glass in her heel
mark the flesh with
tiny sprigs of crimson

it matters not.

she keeps running

Until a concrete slab of uncertainty
falls like a snowflake
unknown
unbidden
unheard
but obtrusive as light.

She slows her pace
should she stop?
or should she speed?

she does not know
meanwhile,
the blood continues to flow.

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Written at 1:16 AM