Monday, June 18, 2007


There's no longer any place
for me to fall.

Even my mother's thorny embrace
has been relegated to graveyards,
though her spines still prod my exertions.

I've been bred to mistrust
so that now I shy away
from friend and foe alike.

My body is an iron frame
spun with medals -
dangling from the hangman's post,

and I have no soft place to fall,
only the harsh linoleum in my kitchen.


Blogger Laura said...

This took my breath away!!

I will be back to read more - Love Laura

9:06 PM  
Blogger burning moon said...

hi Laura, thanks for coming here and reading. I know it's not easy for you.

4:21 AM  
Blogger Chris Never said...

Its this weather , ick, makes everything look bleak.

Dark and indicative of isolation hard to bare, well writ Moon.

5:14 PM  
Blogger burning moon said...

thanks Chris. yeah, I think it's the weather. roll on spring ...

1:02 PM  

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