Wednesday, January 22, 2014

Response of the Unnamed

Did you think your words made you creator-god
of four-line walls with two-line doors
where I could be trapped
by faint praise?
Did you think you would recreate and save me,
absent of lines from time and smiles,
eternized as shadow,
a pillar?
Your metaphors hold and erase me.
Like Lot’s wife into salt, 
voiceless, you leave me
turned to phrase.

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