Friday, May 04, 2012

Abrasion Through Transport

The fragile story
caught on her lips
crumbles empty
and hurts. Between her hard walls

a love scar deepens. Imagine a
a tattoo of hard facts. With her body
marked that’s not the end of it.

Here no language survives.
Nearby, sacred phenomena
are born in the silt
of smaller things, signs.

This story of her life grows slowly
from the grinding below: a bloody, earth
mythology pulls her toward
a blue center,

where fire is a dance.

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