A place for prayer.
A Poem
Published on June 22, 2007 By Hazel Target In Poetry
breathe me in like morning mist
choke on the ether of my memory
feel my breath on the hairs of your neck
spin 'round to catch my ghost fleeing

like a lodestone holding your heart
I call in the voice of dead passion
for my pain I would never release you
for my love would imprison you always

reduce the dream to tragedy
feed us both the poison pose
our bodies robbed of vigor skin
as pale as spectres for the photo

no--I let you go already
you have strayed far out of range
I guard private dreams of vengeance
I would rather die than change
I would rather die than change

my heart heals crooked
like an unset bone,
mending and bending
frozen broken and torn

my ashes are brown
with the dirt of the poor
my teeth hang heavy
from my gums

thank God
for the scars
that cover
your eyes.

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