Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Be safe.

Raise less than usual amid these fraught fixtures--
These forlorn and needy faces--

Raise so little
That the necessity of it might too
Avail so little--

And throw down your shields,
Filed shivs. Such
Lanky giving arms, they will die before
Even once trying to stop holding onto you.

Even now a prism erupts;
This is the hearth of your arms.

Go now.
Be more gentle than necessity commands you to be.

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