Mercedes Lawry

 

 

 

          THE HOURS ELAPSE AND LEAVE US BARE
 

Suspicion of the moon.

White fears coming and going

in the collapse of night.

What once was given,

now but pieces, glad and sorry

like the darkness rimming our bones.

A Rembrandt memory consumes

pain as tenderness follows,

a relic of beginnings. Your pale hands

collecting my hair and my own happy cries.

Copyright 2003 Mercedes Lawry.  All Rights Reserved.

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