War Poet.ca - A CFAP Project by Suzanne Steele

lazarus (32)

he rose, rose her from her rosy sleep,
with candles that burned sweet,
sweet vanilla beans;
his field book began to weep petals,
gun metal, silver scratches, black ink,
he read and read and read, page
after page, incant, intent,
she heard him, heard him, then
he gave her his dead to wear, a posy,
a ring-a-round rosy, etched gun metal,
silver scratches, cool against her skin,
she listened closely, kissed the metal
softly, kissed his head, took him softly
softly back to their winter’s chocolatey bed.


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The page you're reading contains a single diary entry entitled lazarus (32). It was posted here on January 10, 2012.

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