You also want an ePaper? Increase the reach of your titles
YUMPU automatically turns print PDFs into web optimized ePapers that Google loves.
hannah farwell<br />
<strong>The</strong> Morgue<br />
And then I see that this is what it is<br />
A swirling plume of ash of remnants lost<br />
A smell of putrid jaws that long to kiss<br />
A moment whose thought hangs in this is cost<br />
Your crystal balls are broken off their hinge<br />
Sfumato tendrils curl and kiss your cheeks<br />
<strong>The</strong>y gawk at rosy dimples—my hands cringe<br />
In me you shall not find just what you seek<br />
For he was plumes of ash before the sand<br />
That ran through broken glass ‘till kidneys failed<br />
Our putrid jaws- they strained for truth in hands<br />
No mention of my name shows love curtailed<br />
<strong>The</strong>se roads to rivers turn and then congeal<br />
My blood still flows but just don’t break the seal.<br />
68
Change language