this machinery of grace
Posted by Rich Magahiz Sun, 30 Dec 2007 05:45:00 GMT
an outer ring of heck
smelling of
strawberries
her hands full of cloud
tissues of scorn
Lee’s redoubt
where dark lines find
their griefs multiply
an ounce of ash
and that too soon gone
tender to the bone
our enemies
our hearts’ ease
how long
this machinery of grace?
her life list:
a spidery red hand,
then nothing
the sea sucks at the rock…
pink-flushed foam
first bacteria
then fungi
kiss their host
the coldest flame:
we all wear our pyres
