' ' ' ' ' Owning Our Own Faces
D Dónall Dempsey
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Our faces
lie on the grass
white
as bone
our death
masks
drying
in the sun.
Later, they are to be
painted & adorned
(the craft of Art)
but now, it's as if
they have emerged from the grass
ancestors
who have owned these faces
before their ghosts
made them ours.
We lie together
a fallen leaf
between us
gazing at the centuries
the sun parades past us
like a Lord
& Lady
caught in stone
staring Time
dead in the eye.
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş