Chamber
Cautious yet yearning
I offer up
This rusty canister
It is thinly encrusted in
A shell of neglect.
When you shake it
Crumbs of feeling
Clatter about its tinny
Chamber. Airless and
Starved, in this forgotten
Cave, like bear skeletons
Left hibernating too long.
You could blow off
The dust and polish it.
Dump out those remnants
And fill it anew
With all the fresh,
Living and real, so real
The joys and sorrows
Of a living, beating
Blood-gushing heart.
(c) Tasha Chinnock 2006
No comments:
Post a Comment