the
shores are adrift
my knees to my chin,
eyelids heavy,
eyes shut,
mind wrapped into a milky cocoon,
I’m crumbled in the
ball of flesh.
darkness bridges itself into more darkness,
leaping the walls of empty chambers:
always filling, hungry for more,
always empty.
blood, dark,
like a widow’s soul, like a wing
of the raven, ripped by the twister,
pressured in a dervish whirl, where
even death is helpless.
the pressure
of high command carry it on,
beyond.
the forms are broken,
molds unfit,
salt chewed the anchor from my ankle, only
the chain, a few links, dangles like a pendulum
of a broken clock, lost in time….
the child’s voice from afar “ I am thirsty!”
“there is a glass of water…” I replied from my grave,
he cried “ I can’t drink it, it was made from the ocean”
I opened my eyes and let the world
flow in,
again
c: Nina K Orlovskaya 6/16/2012
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