adam

31.05.2010

in an hour unspoken
the last of the twine unravels
a clamour of great hope
a clambering to space
where everything is condemned
to a past untouched
unfixable,
fixed.

faces once known up close
are a browned melee of bitterness
keeping one from sleep

in a day unbroken
speckles are accumulated
upon frost, upon frost, upon frost
and melee is textured, has substance
each direction is warm against the lips

some things can be shut and gone
some things can be shut and gone

the smallest of dust
islands in fiction
squeezed to a same
and swaying, open-mouthed.

your eyes laugh no more
but do in time, in time behind
and your words carry with them a voice
unforgotten
its a fine wire we wrestle
its a finite line, this line
but some things aren’t shut or gone

adam is here

~ by annavo on xxx.

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