If i grip her wound
Will she extend her rusty
gossamer arm? Grant me this
garden, a delightful shield
a savior from the inside
a flight clipped in night
our wings feel this,
think their long soar
i walked out of sky
and the edge
was like a dribble
of illness, that griped
the point of breaking

10/05/2006

Posted on 10/05/2006
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