Of Water and Stone

Friday, October 15, 2010

Friday, October 15, 2010 - afternoon

Sand, flies in the face
of it, and darkly shadowed
sideways, her eyes flit,
from place to space, emptied
of her hallowing,
of her holy moment,
of the exact instant, when
she forgot to differ
her eyes, and the pacing of them,
from her sight, from what she saw -
forgot to remember the end of childhood, where seamlessness fails,
and the adolescent picks at strings,
and figments, faltering along these
edges of experience where self and world confront
each other
with what has shattered,
and faltering, sand in her eyes, her face an it,
a thing in the mirror, seen,
an object, muddled by dust and dirt,
she breaks even, only to
forget once more that her eyes
do not belong in the picture,
as she's seeing it...

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