Tuesday, July 2, 2013

Exodus

This perpetuation of strangers
Still a sour taste,
Measured pints a red turbulence
Under warm skin. 
 
I do not interfere
To drain the cold people I carry,
Transfused. 

There was promise once,
Innocence and birth.
It didn’t occur to me,
The mixing of figures
At least this much thinned,
Diffused, 

                Inheritance of endless Exodus
                From mothers
                Still crossing the torn sea.
 

                                                                                                                7/1/2013

No comments:

Post a Comment