Thursday, February 19, 2009

Further adventures in Quantum Poetics.

it was unsaid, walking into the cave

pale, skinny chest puffed out, regulated.

not here not here in the rat's lair the sound

of dripping water upon ear, Antigone's

dried bones rattling in the dark. A quorum,

sharp teeth sunk in wet loins while the shadows\

look on, an aperitif of flesh, lustrous

in gloom. Those skulls were heroes once, maidens

with soft breasts, old men with bent canes, crones. Chill

between slick thighs will be licked off, back pressed

against wall knees high, rain is only a note

in the song; brittle limbs broken in time

the incessant drip the sun that neither

rises nor falls in eyes that are not here.

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