Tuesday, April 3, 2012

Alphabet Soup

Coils of covers mummify me
Past arms’ reach emptiness expands
Across cotton folds, concrete worlds,
And over glass ridden sands

A body there is meant to be
Erasing silence with comforting breath
That hugs my core quite hungrily
Filling this hole to its depth

But all I see in day’s first blush
When orbs skim the vast, cold air
Is an empty shell left next to me
A fading scent lingering in webs of hair

So now I fill that hollow grave
With words like alphabet soup
To melt the icy heart sick soul
Whose lips fell frozen and mute


1 comment:

Michael del Castillo said...

So very original and modern, but not sacrificing meaning in the name of uniqueness—authentic.