Saturday, April 5, 2014

Love Poem from a Broken Man

I'm at
the last and least
of men, of the
terrible poets and robbers
stealing words til nothing's left.

Lead to ash; they turn to this
broken love poem, a question no one
can answer. A thing
that hides behind
a clouded heart. Even the moon
laughs at me, and steals in
to the broken sky of my
mirror til all I have is an empty window.

prompt: golden shovel; all the last words form a poem by Ryokan.

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