what holds me

By | 1 February 2015

what holds me
when even the mystery
of the smallest bones in the body
has gone

those spindle sticks
cast no shade
on my inmost shape
and I pass between:

no bride
no mother
no queen

the dwindling prospect
of a lover
in the leaving light

This entry was posted in 66: OBSOLETE and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

Related work:

Comments are closed.