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trembling fingers in the dark I
can not silence
the memories flowing into my mind
through the tones of peace
embedded in the air
around me

the frothy hair keeps
whispering
its stories of glory
in the leopard coat
on the porch
with million lights and cigarette
voices.

and the warm air filling
the inside of
the doll house den
crack lives at
I wish
to forget the faces
to forget the places
to forget the traces I left
in the wet rotten leaves
in September darkness.

trembling fingers in the dark I
a year later
can not silence
the frothy hair
whispering
its stories of glory to be
revived
by the tones of peace
embedded in the air
of September darkness.

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