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Musings
Sunday, 02/20/2005
Author
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I don't say his name
the punishment drains me
like sand pulled by tide
over my toes. I sink in and grab on.

Naked
hope suffers
morning manna left uncollected
thoughtlessly discarded.
I decay like that.

I no longer touch you
our story will not end with your leaving.
Lay me down on your cold bed, sheets
pressed perfect.

The moon adorns the roof as
light winnows in I play on my
dungeon floor after one of our storms.

I am the sacrificial altar
momentary calm. Balmy flowers tremble
before the new day greets us.
I hold dew on a platter.

I remember all this,
you are still mine.


D. Claudia Ash


January 5, 2005

Posted by poetry/muse6165 at 12:45 AM EST
Updated: Sunday, 02/20/2005 12:55 AM EST
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