Reflecting on Urns
I would not be so pretentious to think
That I could write on urns
But I stood there and witnessed
Men and women, robbed and running
Folded fabric fluttering without wind
There, pressed my nose against the window
Marveled marbled histrionics
Accumulating poise
Someone’s timeless verve
danced the figures into poses
Someone etched eternal solstace
with pale grave hands
Stand with me and watch them larking:
Merry moment marked on tempered vase.
–ECW
with pale grave hands
Stand with me and watch them larking:
Merry moment marked on tempered vase.
–ECW
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