Sunday, February 13, 2011

Comatose

He goes to visit her, bearing the smells of the garden.
She doesn't speak the whole time,
doesn't look at him. He is frantic
when he realizes what she has chosen.

When she says
the lonely world
is just as good,
we all mourn

another tuft of grass
pulled out into the sea,
a piece of the beach
eroded,

the Earth shrivelled,
wires unplugged,
propaganda from the enemy
adding to our doubt.

0 Comments:

Post a Comment

<< Home