Tuesday, July 22, 2008

untitled

she’s been left lonely
now,
for so many nights

fever as her lullaby
and too much room for thinking
in a bed for one

but it doesn’t matter much
once she sleeps
where
loneliness unleashes the beast

of bleeding hearts
and west wind
that blows her echo
far past where she’s been

and
there will be hell to pay
if he ever sees her again.

5 comments:

Quitmoanez said...

krikie!

Lorne Roberts said...

krikey indeed. holy crap. glad i'm not that guy.

yep--the west wind is blowing this gal waaaaaay past where she's been into phD country, a new city, and a fab life.

so long crappy underserving jerkfaces, hello toronto-town.

uh... not that this poem is necessarily about YOU, though, right? :)

Anonymous said...

one of the few places where I would say violence and beauty connect. great!

Anonymous said...

powerful. especially that last whip!

Anonymous said...

wowee. love it.