MS (4-12-82 / New York)

Mirrors...

Mirrors are not more silent,
Than child SCREAMING unwanted
Yearning for a love
That will never hold you near,
Dear,
I want you to know
You are not alone
No action too bold to hold the cold
She chose
For a weeping willow to freely grow
Untouched by green thumbs and sharp scissors
I fold her sliver in a boiling pot still quivered
Not remembered by she, although remained
Bloody dreams
I remember
Muffled cries under mine
Yet never wondered whose tears fell down
A crowded thunder
While I looked upon her face
Her voice rang out in a mind
Watching pieces of her fall
Out of reach
I walked away forgetting me

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