Saturday, May 27, 2006


Waiting (draft)

The night molasses air
holds aloft a full moon,
the illumination a brutal truth.

No love note passes.
The moon, holds back her mystical spell;
the barefoot bridesmaid walks on gravel
till the hail dents mark her soles.

Limp bouquets fly in the face
and drop around her to no avail.
Blue satin drapes her shoulders,
gathers at her waist.
The hem a receding hairline.

Still, night after night,
she waits,
she watches,
a moon that never winks.
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