The Warm Coward
April 13th, 2008
The Warm Coward My paused rain, my paused and gathered rain, my ceiling-lake of swords, held cloudburst breath hungry for gravity’s suck, for plummet & quill like flags across my back or glass tines – You’ve trembled all my life, waiting to dip, draw up my veins’ ink & feed me overdue script. I could walk the rest of this hill without calling your late lash down, toss into town ahead of clouds’ glower – duck dry in some motel: the warm coward. So I won’t. But I won’t Beg for shower. I’ll keep your freeze, step all over your endless shadow.
C. Way/ SnailCrow.com © 2008
