The sun raises itself, like a wraith, from the sea
the horizon bares itself with a snarl,
and I am coming to realize that what is arrayed against me
is nothing as simple as a rotten impulse or molded habit.
It is the whole weight of my days, assembled in ranks,
their length and measure wound around my wrists, my neck.
My righteousness is an armor of glass,
utterly transparent in its construction and inevitable defeat.
Labels: Fred
2/20/2008 05:12:00 PM