draughting keys cut strips of days
we hack their way through locks of air
on days like these, wonder why we stay
inside for hope of a change of season
which came regardless, a wish or a space –
in which to wish, and wish but still
She’ll find her end, stuck away
found in a car somewhere and
carbon monoxide replaces us
piece by wind-struck piece
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January 18th, 2012 at 12:02 am
How very Virgin Suicides. Daunting. I like it!
January 18th, 2012 at 12:17 am
I really love that last stanza.
-b
January 18th, 2012 at 2:58 am
This is masterful.
Also, thanks for checking us out, we’ve followed you
-Dagda
January 18th, 2012 at 10:10 am
Thanks all. Trying a slightly different direction here…
January 18th, 2012 at 1:39 pm
Congratulations I just nominated you for the Versatile Blogger Award…
Details are below:
http://darkestangelica.wordpress.com/2012/01/17/versatile-blogger-award/
January 18th, 2012 at 1:55 pm
Thankyou very much
January 21st, 2012 at 2:10 pm
Despair, Benjamin. The change of season coming regardless, reflects the inexorable march of time. As if her death is pre-ordained perhaps. Very black, to me, but still I love it.
February 5th, 2012 at 8:16 pm
“piece by wind-struck piece …” such an ending line … a perfect slice of writing.