Thursday, July 28, 2005

Death

Death

Morning glories shrivel, crushed under an August sun,
beaten to a fetal curl by the anger of afternoon thunder -

battered wives demur in submission to the pain of their days
for there's no shelter in the sunflower's thin-arm shadow.

The preying jaws of the beetle offer no sanctuary -
but lightning shines in the smooth skin of wet things,

and in the ebony shimmer of damselfly wings.


8 comments:

  1. Enjoyas muchas, E. My only nit (not even as big as a nit, really, more of a mite - lol) is that it is one looooong sentance. I wouldn't have even picked up on that before someone picked up on it in one of mine. Who knew you Moonies are making me not only a better writer, but a better reader!

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  2. lol it works like that - we call it brainwashing.

    How's that?

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  3. ooh, that's better...

    I rather blew by it before for some unexplained reason. I do like it now. Thanks E2 for seeing what I couldn't.

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  4. Works much better for me. Now the only thing I get snagged on is the last two lines rhyming, but I think that's just me being silly.

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  5. Me too Erin - but for now, "oh well."

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  6. I hear ya, E. I don't have much oomf at present either.

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  7. but your little picture looks so happy and energetic!

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  8. I keep coming back to that rhyme thing (once someone else pointed it out...lol), I'm dry.

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