12 February 2011

convalescence (ekphrasis)

The beautiful smoothness
of sunlight on black sand
recedes in the whirl of
overhead institutional strip lights
which fail to banish
the smoke filled
mud sodden beach
with its flowers of sound that
I did not die upon.
No ending, no turning to smoke
& since I cannot dissipate and
escape as a fug under the door I
slide a hand under my blanket
to comfort myself.

A poetry challenge at poetrycircle
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