Sometimes
I bleed, though you cannot see
This
red haired maiden of Celtic blood
Drops
Create small puddles pooled,
Dry
on the brick steps under a winter sun,
then
Wash away with the rain in the spring.

Black
Nail polish sings a tempests tune
Waiting
For the phone to ring
I
Cannot hear a word you say
Diving
Downward into the dark chasm
Where
I know the banshee howls
Crying
For it’s long lost love.

04/19/2003

Posted on 04/19/2003
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