She is the rhythm of
a poem unfolded
spun around colorful rooms
barely breathing at times
as she sits
sifting prayers
in the empty night
determined to find function
she fits pieces of the sky together
in an illustration of morning rituals
as words roll
from the interior
of her tongue
she craves lean words
- strong words that whisper to birds
slightly hypnotic behind traumatic eyes
inside the genius of writing
the alphabet falls at her feet
begging to be used
sculpted into another day
like a vulnerable lover
behind mysterious wisdom
a mass of things emerges
with gentle persuasion
a shake and a stir
poetry is born
- and she bleeds for us
in circumstances far beyond her control
8/14/08
Gold trophy winner
Adding your comment:
It is Kathleen all over.
