prayer for living


mirrors of parts
martyrs of magic
cupped inside the eternal womb
some peddlers of art
from beyond the tomb
would you have
a little to eat
a little too much
to live
perchance to die
afraid alone always
sugar dissolving in sand
white water stuck
in your hand
the glove flung down
on a spotless land
spiral swish feather drift
and the beast
waits for decay
don’t forget the ants


One Response

  1. Love the sympathy in this one! 🙂

    Ah Phil, sometimes i have this nasty habit when i just can’t shut my trap and do the right thing 😦

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