Where Ashes May Burn

Limp beauty drops like spiders from
silk; stars fall to their knees.
Now you understand?
My little kiss!
My little wish for after-flowers
of genocide; lush with knowing
and innocence.

Not thankless, no!
Not ignorant as much as the
narrow sister that floats
over blue bells every six years or so.
Just simple, and simply a
slow desire for Gratitude.

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6 thoughts on “Where Ashes May Burn

      1. That is why I love poetry. It can be interpreted so differently to different people!

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