~furtherance
february is hardly new
its weakened sky
the changing pitch of clouds
winter gauzing trees to cotton
the swells
still a killdeer's nest of nerves
sufferance, thy name is wind
squeezing an afternoon
mute with regard to its empty bowl
footsteps away, hard light
scatters from a variegated sun
it's a quarter to march
told the faded clockface
& I'm distracted to places
in old photographs
my hands plead pale keepsakes
like night in empty depths
putty these versed scars
with necessity
bend stoic through the hold
those small sounds behind breath
that wait the dead
broad fields of cloth
sounding of flags
you are only air now
& I own your ghost
lah 2.21.14 ©®
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