What Passes By

[Ann Bingham]

WHAT PASSES BY

the flickering flame
drips no wax
red as the blood
upon your hands
a silent thought
grasps reason
twists it into
disjoined creatures
scars to sooth the beast within.

she touches softly
the whispers at your nape
kisses lightly
at the base of thought
as you wonder
what mind knows
heart hides from
what heart knows
the mind destoys

a figment of imagination
passes within the night
you feel it
but cannot touch
you sense it
but cannot hear
you know it
but cannot see

the flickering flame
exstinguishes the light
and all you see are dots.


10-21-06