Monday, January 14, 2008

In the evening we dream of brighter times (6/80)

In June my mother caught
my sister on fire.
There isn't much to say about that
except the way moths
attracted to the light hung
about the flame
their thin wings
only a blur
against violet dusk.
Is it heartless
to think her a bonfire
the way her hair
lit up to the treetops?
Or so cliche--out as bright as she came?
We buried her charred.
The clear wings of insects stuck to her lack of skin.

2 comments:

  1. ooo ooo play w the line breaks!
    the first line could really benefit
    POP!

    awesome

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  2. cut "there isn't much to say about that" and "or so cliche". I really love the insect wings reference on the last line, but I'm not sure you should use wings twice. The second time is stronger. I agree with Brian about linbreaks. Very cool start for an awesome poem.

    ReplyDelete