Remnants

REMNANTS
A2Kdavis (K Davis)

Sometimes, there is silence and a wish
that the world might be - as
silent;
to hear the cold break, to contemplate
a slow mend of cracks
that were saved
in the absence.

Nimble fingers on their click,
on quiet clocks and the fallen.
It was
all in the print, the broken limbs,
earthly marrow. Faces stir like the
grip,
unreal and unrelenting.

In the day’s moonlessness,
we
define all the fear, magnified
wounds and tears - perfectly woven.
There
must be a consolation
that unfolds, in the end.

©A2Kdavis (K Davis) 2011