Honesty: A Poem
Friday, January 30, 2009
The crescent moon has fallen to its back,and the night is glass,
and on the wall in the room where I lie waiting
hang the hollowed eyes of a ram,
the perfect bone
of what gets left,
of what will be watchful then:
Self unto soul unto self.
There is a difference between
the dawn and the light.
One seeks.
One hurries.
6 comments:
Happy Friday! Thanks for posting this lovely poem. I hope you have a fun weekend planned! :)
I love these lines:
the perfect bone
of what gets left,
I've been watching that 'crescent moon' which 'has fallen to its back.'
It is a nice place to untangle one's self.
I love every line. It's so perfect.
Thank you, all. A poem written at 3 AM yesterday morning, in exhausted desperation.
Can I just say that anything I wrote at 3 am in exhausted desperation would sound like the drunken burblings of a merchant marine?
I'm just sayin'.
XO
Anna
P.S. Yours is, you know, a lot better than that would sound.
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