Like a fist uncurls,
The battle comes to an end.
Then comes a fortnight
Of prayer; attempts to save
This plight.
Quite ambivalent is a
Sparrow fluttering in the
Wind -
Heaves breezes to fuel
Duels within
A peck on the hand, wrist
And palm.
Brings about a ghostly
Calm...
You try and breathe but -
It is too easy; fortified.
The battle comes to an end.
Frigid winters on the heart
And colon, icy sheaths
Amongst eyes.
Frozen in time -
Parallel to this.
Try and adhere to their
Pantomimes
Oh what a battle to be
Missed and bled.
A certain silence lingers
Longer in beds that
Hold orphaned minds,
Debris hearts, thumped -
Kicked aside like a wad of dirt.
Does this ruin defy?
Gravities and earthly spirits
Combined, no longer can
Fabricate 'fine.'
The sparrow is worried about what
It finds
For one day this nest of lies
And lies
Will collapse.
I sit here
And wonder
When?
(L.S.)
