October 19, 2011

  • 24 - the duel

    Her tongue reaches out to the blade
    with an artificial quiver, no hesitation, expecting
    the shock of steel.
    She draws the weapon, utterly useless against the barrier to her freedom,
    the enemy--Hope for Someday.
    Like a glow/shadow, it cannot solidify, cannot be strangled with force.
    Even the best offense, heartache, leaves glimmers,
    glimmers that blind the weak.
    She is weak despite her resolve to
    eliminate
    foolishness and vulnerability.
    She is damned into limbo,
    beyond the safety of logic in consciousness but also
    beyond the refuge of a dreamer's oblivion.
    She slashes/
    The light remains maddeningly persistent
    She slashes/
    The light remains irreconcilable with reality
    She slashes/
    The light remains.