Monday, September 30, 2013

Go on there

Whispers

Faint and soft, unprotected sounds
Repair my life distantly.

They stem the crooked trace and
Interdict the cold narcissist crime.

But, because family calls me to belong,
Dense topics result in passionate replies.

"Cannot leave:  no trial is possible."

Thus law-assembled rhetoric gnaws
A panicked victim of the wide poppy.

For colors spread neatly in my life:
(Queen Love paused darkly there)

To combine is my charge.

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