When Fall Leaves


On the nights he dreamed–

of her

he nailed her braid

to the desk next day

using her fountain pen

to skew her

–the pen she lent him for graffiti–

watching his reflection

in glass stained with

afternoon sun

(and prisms)

and sweating from exertion

(pointless)

the love she inspired

like breath

was hidden

in the glow of pride

he inspired

–in the manner

subtext

is lost on

the literal.

 

About Charron's Chatter

I bring to you an arrow, whole, Use it, or break it, But if you choose to take it --Know-- With it also, I will go. © Karen Robiscoe @1992

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