Litkicks Message Board Archive

these

Posted to Action Poetry




are left;
a snippet of a tune,
a pale blue paint chip
caught dangling
from a peeling light post.

a feather,
a ribbon,
meshed together
in crumbling grass.

the forever
of your remnant bones
casting white whispers
over grey stones.

eternity,
in four walled rooms
and long since used windows.