Monday, 11 March 2013

Just a Cut Up

Bad poems I sometimes cut into pieces
Don't  like to throw them away,
This one hangs by a thread
Perhaps if I add a word like rescue
It might just about save her
Or a random phrase,a statement of intent,
And if I now reveal, there is no spring
Only the waiting and anticipation,
Outside, knitted together, pencilled with menace.
There is uncertainty in every thought
These  words could disappear in a moment,
Tomorrow, could reappear in another arrangement
Perhaps you will hear nothing, only emptiness
Maybe this will be enough ,for this one to survive.

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