Tuesday, January 25, 2011


A gong sounds
and I am gone: seeping into the sand.
half changed to glass.
But your snow melts in my hands; secretly placed on a reflection, during shifting sunlights
to hear evidence of physical life.
Silence overtakes my eyelids
in the deepest night.
in the dreams of a mothering form
who has no concern for my existence,
only the bones, angel, that you gave her, and the glittering skin that was cloned for her own.

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