The Locust

January 19, 2012
The flames
Bounced in your eyes,
Grabbed at your skin
Seared young beauty
Stifled clean cool air,
They woke me in a sweat
Tangled in soaked sheets
The despairing face of my sister
Painted on the insides of my eyelids.
And there’s something about death,
An inconceivable beast,
That makes you deny the deserving,
That makes you weep over the cruel.
So I pick up the phone
And slice through the silence
Of two long years,
The silence that keeps me from
Loving you
That keeps me from
Staunching the life from your lungs.
When we were just children
They all said time was the cure,
But what if we need more time
Than the earth’s weary heart can give us?
In my dreams I am visited by a lamb.
He is stumbling up a rocky hill
Following the voice of his shepherd,
He is stumbling up a hill
To his slaughter.





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