Friday, February 10, 2012

ashes, ashes

chestnut curls drift
in lazy whorls
to the floor
time itself
to touch her

but hair will grow
again not knowing
how relentless
is this blade

   clothes torn
   hair shorn
   nothing left
   to cut

reluctant fingers
relax their hold
cold clunk
of steel on counter


she turns
from the mirror
seeing nothing
hearing nothing
feeling blessed nothing
near the surface in this moment
but the urgency of ashes

   there must be
   something here
   to burn

reworked from 2006 version

Linking up to dVerse ~ Poet's Pub Open Link night.