history (Remove filter)
lifelines
she sits
she knits
the needles click
as strand by strand
in cracked crabbed hands
each stitch
might haul them
back to land
her days, her nights are one, the same -
a gift of darkness borne by grief
to wounds already salted well.
lips taste each quarter
of the wind; she hears the tides
advance, retreat -
as if in echoes from
some ancient stranded shell.
she feels t...
Monday 4th May 2009 2:25 pm
Recent Comments
blackrose on The Observations of The Strath and Formant
8 hours ago
Jon on New Life
8 hours ago
blackrose on Make Me Sweat
8 hours ago
Landi Cruz on Esoteric
10 hours ago
Tom Doolan on Make Me Sweat
10 hours ago
Landi Cruz on Hold the Front Page
10 hours ago
Graham Sherwood on Hold the Front Page
10 hours ago
Telboy on Hold the Front Page
10 hours ago
M.C. Newberry on Ballot Box
11 hours ago
M.C. Newberry on A cloudy day in early May in old England
12 hours ago