the dusty brown
bones of dinosaurs
sit still within
their glass
enclosures, no
longer roaring
at the world that
trembles at
their feet, ancient
history, like
marriages gone
wrong, the earth
hit by meteor,
or flood, or an
icy doom. memories
in a box tucked
into a closet,
beneath a bed, or
to the attic
where spiders all
day long make
their web.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment