NaPoWriMo 8

The Allegory of the Email
for Sarah F

We watch eggs break—bones
picked out from several others.
In an empty cable, next to a 
wall in shadow, so many theaters
of voice converge, a shade of 
gray brought forward. Charlotte—
the customer—her heart moves 
slow
	as water edges against her.

Her hair is weather patterns—
a spark pulling thru. Her hours are 
paint, William Blake, shark penises
—under the wall we sit listening 
slowly to paws tap glass.

Below, the town withers, twines
its ropey recession around & around.
Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s