Sense of Humor
cracks between doors,
like rats, fingers course
thru, corrode against
the inside of a clenched
fist. cease, this silence,
i insist(bite tongue, each
word, penance)suffer,
humor is a sense-
shattered glass tickle
bare feet- the caveat
of clenched teeth. mis-
placed morality, i do
appreciate your sin-
cerity; fate compromised
(the hands of time,
mesmerised in back&forth
instants). "it is okay"
someone will say; but
words change & fall away
like leaves, all intent
bereaved.
Copyright © Rachel Hart | Year Posted 2007
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