Saturday, November 29, 2008

Inspiring Words:

Old Woman's Winter Barn Song

I can hear you like
change in running pockets,
only sound to
give your existence away.

That is the closest you come,
a rippled sound
between us.
The breeze blowing the ashes.

The wind bites my lip.
I pull wool to my ears.
Bracing against the cold,
the warm barn beckons.

Latch hit hard upon my finger.
Numb, the tips awake to crimson.
I shake loose my hand
to free me from the pain.

I kiss the ruby tip
and taste the metal of me.
My armor, protecting,
leaks the tinny drops, almost flowing.

I remember how you took my fingers
and kissed my blood from them smiling.
I painted your neck
and you loved me with a fierce power.

The snow slaps the side of the barn,
the straw snapping under foot.
I don’t bleed anymore.
And you have not touched me in years.

Me Jan 2007