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Morning Shame
June 9, 2012
Fog sweeps Over the bulging dirt that hides Shame The mound pulses Shame is still alive underneath The Earth Knees stoop to the dirt And smooth the beating ground The morning mist shrouds a striving hand
That blindly gropes at the hazy dawn
It clutches a bony ankle
And with a scream to life
The cold hands of shame drag a body Into its grave as the fog fades
And into the Earth
It is dragged
Feet first
Arms flail
Until the dirt spills over his face
And morning rises
© Whitney T., Glenpool, OK
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