|
THE HOPE LETTER
A narrow room, a view cracked and flattened
the last illegible marking of whatever coil of light
has passed beneath surf, a sand smeared arm
and found on ones own an unexpected
hurler of suns, words, the portal in trees
shaping her self with such freedom
and force, a giant, between worlds
this wary refusal for their order of things
unaccustomed to miracles, will surrender
her back
setting for shipwreck
© Jeanne Bernhardt 2004
|
|
