Monday, February 4, 2013

empty floor


empty floor beside me when the soldier scraped his chair 
and bent his pleated uniform to perch in silence there
we waited for the caravan, i sadly closed my hands
across my lap and just enjoyed the breathing of the man 
he cut a solemn figure of some innocence in trial
a piercing gaze set ruthless in the sweetness of a child
may I turn without explaining toward the hollow of his eye 
and let my body tilt and spill, a clear dash from the sky
and start a rage of something fleet and starving in my bed
and feel the shape of something lost I never really had

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