Saturday, January 22, 2011

High Tide

My heart passenger angel
Transfixed by glossy mood
Sipping soda
Skipping slowly
To the pond at the end of the road

The floods came that summer
And we never saw the moon
Hopes dashed
Plates smashed
I left you in that room

Carried away by water
Touched by many hands
The dancers took their time
Weaving through the brine
The last glimpse
Salt in your hair
Blood on my wounds

Winter breathing darkly dawning
Lips frozen fingers on my face
Half sober
Falling over
Whispers echoing in space

I took it for granted once
A bridge near-buried
Cars like husks
Soft fabric caskets within
People stranded like buoys
On rooftops

I left you in a room
Small pocket, dry island
Cold sun risen past noon

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