Echoes
Every moment always hollow beneath,
Blap blap blap blap, bullet holes weave;
The body weeps like a river.
Many currents bubble, folding dreams;
There is a fabric that can not be cut.
Quick action blade and coffee stained eyes,
I am lost to the myriad waves
Erasing every moment.
Shrapnel bones and whispered curses
Hollow beneath the echoes of history.
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Copyright © Merritt Waldon | Year Posted 2011
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