the start’s a cry,
a blur,
a wonder.

the finish is a fraying
string of sorrow.

the real story lies
in that most mad
(and moonly)
middle dash.



This entry was posted in poetic asides poems and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to bookends

  1. Shawna says:

    This is fantastic, girl.

    I especially like these lines:
    “the finish is a fraying”
    “the real story lies”

Use your words.

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