I. It hurts
Take me over there
before I bleed everything out:
my violence, my hates, my loves, my light
II. Cosmic interlude
You are not your blood
your bones, your feathers, your eyes
says the vulture to the dead robin in the road.
III. You are here
My hand can not draw the face that I want.
I forgot what you look like…
my old hand draws a sun and a tree.
IV. The riddle
Beneath the ground there is always a sound.
Somebody is always eating; somebody is always breathing.
Who is it?
VI. Silence by the tree
I will empty myself out over there.
Don’t deny me the pain of surrender;
bury these things with the worms and the stones.
Kiley Creekmore lives somewhere in the universe writing poems and other things. She has a voracious curiosity for life and everything else. Oh, she also loves cats and hula-hooping (and maybe hula-hooping cats?). She can be found around the web at: teapartiesonneptune.wordpress.com
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