Published in the Fall/Winter 2001 issue of
Ophelia's Muse
It's Just A Mood
The hours are foolish
that I spend waiting
standing motionless
A white bloom
against the darkness
singing songs under the window
that stares out into the night
like the eye of a hurt girl
Horse hoof thoughts flop
wearily through light dust
Last night I dreamt about death
flying in
under the door
that's when the mood
started
sharp in the
hands parting lips
exquisite in the
waiting
December
Not enough trust, you say
and we do not hear the storm
approaching, nor the insects
crawling through the dark.
Is it only in dreams that we are lovers?
My breasts remain buds
half open, burnt by frost.
Emptiness thrusts itself into me
bright as lightning in a pale sleep.
©Tasha 2000
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