Prelude to a Black Star

She covered her dresses with pockets,
she filled her pockets with stones;
She'd pause at the edge of the midnight streetlight
and peer into the dark, alone.
And reaching into her pocket,
she'd draw forth a handful of weight
And fling it into the blackness,
listening for the sounds it made.
Sometimes it glanced off a trash can lid,
making noises like you might expect
But mostly she stood, ears widened
and waited for it to connect.

photograph by flickr user fishyfish


mirror-dancer said...

and also this...

Scott said...


lauralyrics said...

Oh, *this* is good. :) (Nuclearvenus pointed me to your journal).

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