Tuesday, December 1, 2009

by Vera





















Stumbling Rumpled - by Vera

Rumpled
like this dead land of rubble.

Rumpled
like the beliefs
quaking
in folds of my brain.

Rumpled
like Lon-scented blankets
on his bed
in the trailer.

And stumbling this morning,
from
Emma's feather-fine pale blond hairs
on the other pillow.





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