Wednesday, September 23, 2009

Facets (napowrimo 9)

Paradise is burning,
is setting one's self

Is a poem that you
can walk away from, and know
will stand on its own.

Is a lover's spine, curved
like an archway in Venice,
facing a canal,

and across it, a door
painted a shade
of peeling blue.

There is a little girl,
with bubbles.

She dangles
her feet in the water.

The gondolas
whisper past.

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