just as it is in arizona

oh, she knows (the girl at the roadstand)
crushing berries into her mouth
a child of the rainstorm, beaten
but not yet crawling

her shudders are made of ice
but her skin drips sun like honey
moisture at the corner of her lips,
a smile beneath the fluttering of birds, she stands
palmful of memories and fingers
dipped in the juice of some young berry
plucked and pulled at just like her
one more ship on the sea

(a cloud passes)

sighs.

2004-09-05 | 2:20 p.m.
0 comments so far