my past is stalking me
that shadow by the gate
the rigid body of a squirrel
nose-down in the gravel
a child's high, thin voice
the scent of old lovers
green tomatoes on the vine
bombs in Mumbai, blood
on the pavement -- heat
abductions, rage and
retributions, this solid grief
heavy at the throat,
an ivory necklace carved
in the shape of a rose
--
~ SB =^..^=
http://www.sbpoet.com
http://sb.chatango.com/
http://www.flickr.com/photos/sbmontana/
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