...the letter killeth, but the spirit giveth life...

Sunday, October 26, 2014

Poem 7 - Blank Verse


A ball, a floor, a broken window pane.
The glinting shards, the footsteps running off.

Lord God, in the cool of the day, calling to two
who hide themselves, who know they're naked now,

who see they've been always without a thread
between their bodies and the perfect glass,

the dome of sky, the voice among the trees.

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