Sunday, November 27, 2016

Cecilia White #8: before dawn

before dawn

no matter what you think
conclusions are palindromes

epicentred palaces of reflection
where mirrors are cats

hunting for prey. no one lifts their eyes
especially you - mindful of black ice

near the moat where that bridge burned
the one you kept trying to draw

closer. even van Gogh could hear
chains. disturbing links to patterns

you didn’t design to mean. this time
solid water rusts the night

ice eats truth for breakfast -
not wanting to put on the weight of dancing

you leave before dawn
more finished than dressed.


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