Awake

  • Jason Bowe
  • Apr 10, 2005
  • Series: Other
    Awake

    The hours shuffle toward dawn like shackled outlaws to an impatient noose.
    my eyes are the arms of my forgiving mother as the second hand decimates my dreams of silence
    Reels of memories pour over me vultures of regret make their nest in my bowel perching with claws as sharp as Catholic guilt
    I feel sun bleached; swirling the bottom of a six pack like some sort of voodoo cure my son's cries sleep in a womb still 2 months away wrapped in a warmth he'll never know again

    My knees shatter porcelain tiles on a frozen kitchen floor.
    My wicked hands fill with empty eyes
    Cry freedom! Oh, to be bought from my captors!
    No mercy in the hangman's hood
    In the next shattering tick, I am free
    His scarred hand lifts my bones from the dust
    I am awake

    Contributed by from a boat somewhere in the Indian Ocean. He returns to Kaleo in 40 days!

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