There are those same muted, defeated, eyes
always set in varied waxy faces
surrounded by the bed sheets of lies:

a head in the crowd, bent to the skies
or veiled in sheets, praying to vases
There are those same muted, defeated, eyes

hungry, before famine colored dyes
fill her bowl, and her other empty spaces
surrounded by the bed sheets of lies.

Even as pillars of fountainlight rise,
hands against cage bars, teary laces,
there are those same muted, defeated, eyes.

At lover’s embrace, the wispy frond sighs
but back at home, awake, his heart races
surrounded by the bed sheets of lies.

In The Mirror, they fear the raspy cries
that await, set in withered, bony graces.
There are those same muted, defeated, eyes
surrounded by the bed sheets of lies.

03/14/2007

Posted on 03/14/2007
Copyright © 2024 Kenneth Lau