Saturday, May 10, 2014

The Morning After

In Mid conversation we lived
Haunted, flared
Stacked in a moment of time.
You walked out, like a release
From a long, repetitive survey
She played the song
Maria,Maria left her fruits on the table
and I
I unplugged the speakers
I ran away with the cable
The apples have gone rotten
The music had faded like rewashed linen

Now I turn in speech alone

You. Where have you gone?

No comments:

Post a Comment