Quick bits for the evening.
Alluring and alarming.
Long to fade
into the landscape.
I can make no offering
to your altar.
Yet you still pursue,
pierce.
Remembering
the childhood days I'd hide
in the folds
of my mother's skirt, red-faced
and tear-stained.
Layers peeled.
Walls crumbling at our feet.
Here before you,
naked, trembling, exposed.
Nowhere to run.
0 comments:
Post a Comment