© SYL, 2006
Been a while hasn't it --
since a gun sat in my palm
snug as a Russian nesting doll
giving up secrets, layer by layer:
a gun of spun smoke and stilted words.
I look down the barrel of my days
Beyond the known yonder
Infinity spans its necklace of hours.
I'm fixing my sights
Baby I'm aiming straight -
Shards of me, that secret hollow
tiny splinters of fractured time
and a bullet of echoes backlit
by pieces of unseasoned dreams
cordite traces of a smile
that should have been yours
but faded, like invisible ink
drifting away.
1 comment:
Ooh...nice!
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