Saturday, 9 November 2013

Autumn ruin

What I remember
Is all that your piece by
Piece left behind us.
Bruises brushed our skin
With grief and relief and
Seventy three was a darkened
Forest. I was cree in your
tunnel and my storm
diluted our seance.
I am erupting the same
Way your dissolved inside me;
In distilled autumn ruins

this will be my last poem

so that i remember. because before melted steel, there was hand-made, better, buttered words. we can decide if new spaces beneath me can qui...