Tuesday, February 2, 2010

CERTAIN MEMORIES

A whole school of children in blinders,
Assembled by height in lines, stupidly
Looking about. In some other place is rung

A bell- hundreds of children surge forward
At doors too narrow, this the children can't see,
The lines come apart, the field writhes:
A scourge of blindered children

Shrieking, colliding, flapping their arms.
In certain memories, your face no longer holds.

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