Saturday, July 09, 2011


Against a wall wet with past
she leans- the musty memory
soaks her cloak    and lingers-
days to nights to days
the acherontics shuffles between
them and there is no deviation
nothing tangible to separate
one from the other -
darkness like the husk
of a walnut shell    encases her.
Who will crack the shell?
Can anyone?

2011 © Michael A. Wells

photo credit -  Amanda Slater

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