Persephone

wisedeargraveBe kind to her

She is willing to grow complete

Cultured in mourning

She knows perfection is only too close

One bloody perfect moment

After which there is no other

Nimble

Swept in far descent

Wise Dear Grave

Looking back over her shoulder

A terse text of deflection, depth

Palely visible beneath

Scratch of bang

And splinter of voice

Saying the things we say

And the things we never

With a need deeper than memory

I touch her arm

As she comes down those stairs

Almost crossing the dark plane

The invisible forever wall

That makes an act

Out of all we do

Advertisements

About ubu507

memory documentation and manipulation
This entry was posted in Poetry and Art, Woman. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s