Monday, September 27, 2010


your crippled walk
speaks to me in its wispy shuffle

the nature of time seems not
unkind today

as we all propel ourselves,
so wounded,

in whatever way we can
toward our longed for

resurrections, toward
what we have coming,

what we have coming,
our own

in water, and fire,

in mud,
in stone.

1 comment:

Ol' Roy said...

I really love your writings, Allison. So much.

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