Monday, November 23, 2009


It is a small reprieve
- a benediction
when kindness is lost
You had merely to say the words
and then those gauze butterflies
could fly away -
burning like bits of paper
in the chalky sky

You had only to ask
and it would come -
like the greedy tide
making love to the shore
swallowing stones for kisses
spitting out shells like teeth

It would be what it had to be
because the decision was made
like snow, like sun

It is a small reprieve
absolution not for the asking
we die by our own hands
small deaths that go unseen
that fold in and look back at themselves
like old lovers
rendered pillars of salt.

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