Solitude’s Hopes, Bell’s Ropes

My eyelids are crumpling
like lemon skins squeezed
until the very last,
a hidden flame is dripping
through open and bitter pores.

Incense is burning in the chapel,
my knees’ traces
scatter in cinders
near the iron stove,
a white sun glides
upon pew arms.

At snowfield’s edge
roofs are fuming, trains are running,
people on the corridors
are clutching the window bars
hand after hand,
a thread of words tightens,
bells are tolling for vespers
closer and closer.

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Categories: My Poems in 2010 | Tags: , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

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