Her eyes, pale refraction of sorrow
through distance
Not replaced
There heaved silence
Relegation and pure slopes.
Hail, the reeds tousle and sway
To some unknown rhythm; One we're dying to know.
Catering to unseen dictation: The kind we're unable to regret
We kindle, lest we retire
Lest we exit
Or worse, lest we forget.
Janelle Gregory 12/28/11