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Theme: Freedom Share This Page
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by Bernie McCann
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  Her language remains trapped in a spectrum
splashing fractured light into the bedroom
as if through her sunwashed curtains
in this morning's grey of winter

Her language, her birthright
has meshed into adulthood as a tangle of myths
and codes revealing the now whitewashed, waning impact
of the last trauma
stale now as a bowl of dried rose petals

Yet the sweetness
the scent and the glisten of the sweat between her breasts
is what remains of her struggle at dawn
after a night of sleepless, restless dreaming

She is stepping outside where the ice cracks
beneath her feet, while from above
hanging tree limbs wait for spring

This day too, has its particular meaning
this day too, she did somehow
Share This:
March 04, 2007
More By: Bernie McCann
Views: 1067      Comments: 0




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