A Gentle Line

She wondered what the villain left,A gentle line
while laughing only alone
Just? Fair? indeed not.
Signs in the shade, perhaps

She beat at the starless sky
begging for its water back
until the glow of a sullen sunrise
delivered layers of gray to line the sky.

She wanted to hurry by,
ignoring all along the divide,
a gust of sorrow on the roof;
not that she could care a little
not at all a little

teetering with a thin memory
neither quite here nor quite there
imitating a sort of poetry
scurrying across a littered land

It was not at all comfortable
never it was, was it
yet she spoke with her spirit
and was paid in tattered rags

yearning for only a touch of pastel
or a ceaseless drip of soft drizzle
to infuriate the constant toil
inside the next delicate scratch




A Gentle Line