Trampling Death by Death
by Timothy Reed
I have known joy
but am more at home with sorrow
in memory of a long night
my eyes squint, suspicious of dawn
as I remember you
you breathed your last - gave your spirit
(saturday)
then you took life as a crown
and snapped the neck of death
but on the day between
I visit her grave, and weep
(for this parenthesis)
while my mother is but ash
caged in stone
Sunday is coming
(saturday dwindles daily)
Sunday is coming
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