Monday, September 13, 2004
her hands lie in her
lap
fingers making a smooth line with her arm,
one long bare curve
quietly defenceless, growing into
repose- but only for a while,
only until we get there
only while
one war is battled by
trees that
blur
and the
road
that
smudges itself
lap
fingers making a smooth line with her arm,
one long bare curve
quietly defenceless, growing into
repose- but only for a while,
only until we get there
only while
one war is battled by
trees that
blur
and the
road
that
smudges itself
into
greywhitegrey
poem for huma
Mina at 8:22 PM
