sorenbarrett

A rotting poem

You can not see, you do not hear

what you know is unclear

Your heart in your tongue

leaks through short circuits sprung

 

Images in a broken mirror

shiny pictures on a rusted tear

echoes of painted shards

fall as hail on neighbor\'s yards

 

Picked as harvested cotton

woven tapestries forgotten

water marks in an empty tank

another memory of a poem that sank