Coercing the Air In Remembrance
I'll speak of you with glass rings 'round my ankles
jangling in the Southern sun
at each turn as I walk.
I'll serve the guests their lemonade
and in the sun, I'll slowly fade
in conversation born to run
a background 'mongst the trees.
I'll smile the winning, loser's smile
and think of you there all the while
as dear as sweet impending storms
upon a wilted Wednesday.
I'll wear the bells upon my skirt
in iced aluminum dessert
Tones to bear your name today
at each turn as I walk
And as the guests spill out into the night
I'll alabaster broken light
and risk the moon to get it right
with glass rings 'round my ankles.
Copyright © Tatyana Carney | Year Posted 2006
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