abandoned by Richard TrotterI came as a stranger in the cannon hall
and rose to the limits like a flare
above the sandy earth , untended
then fell as a slow dying cloud.
My soggy veins, now fatal
bow to the mournful distribution
of cold water through the centres,
inside me to shimmer in peace.
For I feel the fire of clammy sheets:
head fallen in remnants of wonder
no brooding kind shrapnel,
race up to find no one. 07/16/2003 Author's Note: old poem-
Posted on 03/03/2004 Copyright © 2025 Richard Trotter
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