Saturday, March 17, 2012

The Watchman & The Well

He wakes at gunpoint in his dream, heart beating
about the head & ears. He tumbles down a well
where cracked walls, wheezing, circle him; the lid
clangs across eclipsing sky.

 In this womb, he thinks about the bereaved,
 how they line up at ticket counters looking for their own
 way out, their chance to whisper goodbye
 into someone’s borrowed phone.   
 Because Epiphany loves a well, because it storms
 the half-glimpsed memory, it rises to meet
 the sliver of eclipse that burns eyes wide awake,
 while the body keeps on drowning.

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