Salt and Sand

they filled the eyes of the orchard
with salt and sand,

with liquid hope.
fingers tremble as time assembles fate,

with broken palms
and pale blue lips.

at dusk a purer rain
dripping off the flesh of bricks and stone,

fogged up mirrors
blurred out faces, dull streetlights.

A hundred nails
waiting to be hammered into their milky white skulls.

tears wash down dirt stained cheeks
as fingertips rip open the sky

a million crows
a million arrows

nine hundred bodies lay by empty snail shells
with crackling bones

the energy of eighteen hundred eyes,
soaking skin in pigment
and filling fingernails with dirt.
 

Reviews

[Jean P. Prudhomme]

this is a very good one miss......even though you were obstinate in not heeding my editorial blah blahs.....i really do like it though.....


I especially loved the following sequence of lines:

"at dusk a purer rain
dripping off the flesh of bricks and stone,

fogged up mirrors
blurred out faces, dull streetlights.

A hundred nails
waiting to be hammered into their milky white skulls."


very much so

=)