open found and Susan

Dust in January

The swollen air spirals through January

thickening time

as if kneaded



flattened then broken, baked and served.
*       *       *       *       *       *

Your laughter splits the silence

fizzy ice sound

on a brittle morning cold

travelling to Florence by train.

Mystery lingers  in a corner of this day

that I kick like an empty can on the road


This entry was published on JanuaryUTCbTue, 04 Jan 2011 22:32:08 +0000000000pmTue, 04 Jan 2011 22:32:08 +000011 24, 2007 at 0.13. It’s filed under Poetry and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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