Posted in nothing special by maggie on 2009/09/01

losing count of those that rush
     through each carved-out hole
all emptying out to angry streets
     that can't help but be missed

yet not as though like blowing ash
     from smoke of a recent kill
reporting factually what dictates
     her unknown absent guest

none showing its demand nor wish
     as mark the skies of hell
where hestia her cold stare lights
     like stars burned out too fast


One Response

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  1. maggie said, on 2016/04/15 at 16:10

    hadn’t held its burning flesh
         on breast on hearth on call
    which of the departed one forgets
         or which stays on as ghost

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