and because i could not stop for death
weep the broken line of song the busted cords heaped upon the floor weep the silent birds the blank stare of the night sky weep the open chest empty of its wares this body is done for.
upon a slab upon a pyre one might consider the effects of chemicals poured on the effects of electric charge laid on how the long-absent hairs might have risen up with the motion of the moon might have lifted itself up and walked back to the earth but this…
(contact me to hear the rest of poem–rebeccacookwriter@gmail.com)
