Thursday, April 07, 2005

Wake

Words fall like raindrops,
inconveniently urgent,
unavoidably dense,
battering and pattering
like fingers
on my brain.

I shut them
up
out
into
a tiny metal box,
a talking coffin,
that I drop
overboard,
through the swirling froth
into the cold,
smooth,
salty
water.

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