Somewhere between the frozen layers sleeps a fragile woman.
|
Waiting for her husband to remove the shards of glass.
|
The sun betrays the light that it once shed.
|
And daughter cuts the hair.
|
Tangled in a silver brush.
|
Spitting at a broken mirror.
|
I feel the movement of ghosts in the room.
|
She keeps a photograph locked in her mouth.
|
The smell of turpentine drips from the walls.
|
Forgive and forget.
|
Relive and regret.
|
You're not alone.
|
I've seen the dead arise.
|
|
-----------------
|
Ruth Buzzi Better Watch Her Back
|
| The Bled |
