AMEN
(After Georg Trakl, Rosary Song III)
Decayed
thing gliding through rotting room;
shadows
on yellow wallpaper; arched in dark mirrors,
our
hands’ ivory sadness.
Brown
beads trickle through dead fingers.
In
the silence
an
angel's blue poppy eyes open.
The
evening is also blue;
the
hour of our death, Azrael's shadow,
further
darkens the little brown garden.
Comments
Post a Comment