Ragged Claws

I’m done with soft snow falling
on the battlefield;
the symbols that make nice
with senseless dying.

My love, I need you desperately.
The branches of dead trees
scrape the darkened windows.
My love, I need you now.

This entry was posted on Friday, December 16th, 2005 at 6:20 am and is filed under Poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.