Tuesday, March 28, 2006

SOC

Cradled addled, saddled with sadness
weeping sores - no more, no more - a
whisper and a prayer, petition
and curse drawn deep, reaching
from marrow to sorrow to woe.

All magic the solitary wave
grinding against stone alone:
nothing to give - less to save -
death a bread, bone to bone
grinding finding an unwinding.

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