Sunday, June 22, 2014

The Last Moment (Davina)

Shall accusing eyes 
burn your skin away, or
cutting words bleed you dry?
Shall angry hands beat and bruise
until your bones have forgotten
how to heal?

Perhaps, perhaps, and we
together we would bear it all.

In the end 
it is the untying of our wrists,
the image of a back
that will break us both:
ankles in slow motion and 
shoulders shrinking steadily,

and a beloved face fixed 
on the far side
of a neck that will not turn.

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