Tuesday, 24 April 2012

For Cornelia

the escarpments may crumble
while feeding the sea of glass, brick and bone

but they sing their story in 4:4(million) time
a slow lament for man dethroned

though in a blinked hundred year reunion
of stolen, moulded, kiln begat marl

a rolled orbicular boiled and burnished delivery
lies offered for a woman’s resurrective art

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