Issue Twenty - Summer 2012

Confines

By Mercedes Lawry

Wind in the wheat.
She hears the sounds,
a grieving similar to her own.
Thready clouds obscure
the sun, making a milky light.
She walks and walks
through the ebbing hours.
This time has teeth and pulls
at her bones. She would rather
not know this place
or the days, one after another.
She would rather go back
but that is a time
not to be known again
and so she walks, surrounded
by the ragged shush and tick,
the spooling wind
licking her face.

Copyright Lawry 2012

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