Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Sylvia


Like her, I know the flatness of men
and the urgent sounds of beehives.
Like her, spiraling down and down,
falling like Alice; the madness.
Hold to a flimsy rope and heave up
again and again.
And from the grave I hear her
whisper to take the plunge
finish the fall
at the bottom is the raging river.
I seek the language.
Let the words go and go and go.
Hard won sanity shivers.

1 comment:

teri said...

This is incredible. I'm glad you are back!