pointing towards
a direction
a pointing toward
the sun rising
toward a recollection
of childhood and
unspoken wet mornings
luminous landscape
in a lost geography
where grandma is laid out
waiting for
the crow black hearse
to take her to
a ceremony that will tie her
forever to the earth
behind she left;
the empty room
that echoes with her perfume,
the picture of a forbidding saint
glaring from the wall above the bed,
and her dead eyes
that open in my dreams
and still terrify across the years
Jim
http://www.poetrykit.org/jim/index.htm
www.poetrykit.org
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Jim Bennett's new poetry collection "The Man Who Tried to Hug Clouds"
pub 2004 by Bluechrome (reprinted 2006) read about it or order from;
http://www.bluechrome.co.uk/
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