poem 010

a forstalled death foretold

We be,
bleached bone,
all centre caged,
wind blown,
and burned it be,
our first,
as we see,
all awkwardness,
shared by an account,
forclosed, so small,
it was drawn,
long past reason,
....reasoning on,
through salt,
dried skin,
covered bone,
left slowly in retreat,
as a savings,
withdrawn,
we give,
....we be,
like lead on paper
scribed,
drawn idle and still,
before giving lastly away.