Monday, 11 April 2011

Claudia Vayle


Wet silk, black


Like bats wings


Hang in the sky


In the corner


A body of net


At the door way


Who will never go out


And didn't come in


The room has blown open


Darkness too far


A shawl of skin


Folding home now


Tunnel of breath


Sides fast and slipping


Tonight not to be


At the end


Ebony tribe chant


Voice from the sea


Dream flowers open


Heart drowning


In night blood.



2010



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