By: mesanger

Nov 20 2016

Tags: , , , ,

Category: life

1 Comment

The exuberant garden is now under snow. And everything these days seems ripe for metaphor.

I can taste the fear.

Metallic, like blood.

A tongue bit in two.

Sharp, acid fear.

The blood drips

to anoint my path.

And I walk.

The ground beneath me

yields, my balance


And I walk.

I can taste the fear,

and today it is cold,

sub-zero, frigid fear.

I shiver and I walk.

Fear follows me

like the moon.

And I walk

until she tires.


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