Wed Aug 1, 2012
Taut naked limbs stretched but unlike saplings,
lacking musicality - more like organic hooks.
Poised over a midnight pool,
like a frozen breath nobody took.
Should I release this tension? Or will my supine ligaments snap,
tumbling me into the tepid waters where the drowned god waits
for a voice. Is it even a choice
I wonder to write of this -
to agonize over the spring.