There was something in the way…
Light or varied ephemera
or a sonata or other(ness).
Nowhere, we bothered the infinite.
Placed doubts discreetly
and played with our hair.
We were all out of caring,
cluttered and clattering.
From the stairwell, a murmuring…

She departed
with a handful of rust,
bad intentions trailing her gown.

-r. miller

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s