Thursday, September 27, 2012

On a Shelf

Boston traveler
on a journey,
on a shelf,
in beveled jar.

(Late! A walk cut short, scurry back...
But wait!
Pick up side of road
toss aside,
where 'twill 
cause no ill.)

Talons clutch your heart
no more, 
no more eely tentacle,
paper ballerina. Swoon,
a star,
concertina tune,
et'rnal. Love us from afar,
we who remain
anchored to earth, 
rent by scar, wed to
mundane, mired in
bedeviled tar.