shelley walled in
harold fleming
... up early, with morning on the rise,
a word down early like a certain bird
I might chase later, if I want a worm.
Now Iım satisfied with a clear sky.
You have it, too - or are you looking elsewhere?
Eyes that turn inward must seek something else.
Theyıre oval objects, too rare for a shelf -
blue, and shine best when tears are coming through.
I sense you lonely, squirming in a room
youıve made your own, but now inhabited
by some rank odor from dried flesh and bone;
and I would tear the walls down to get at it
if I thought for one second you feared death
and could do nothing there but hold your breath.
