Knoepfle 6-3-04

sandalwood poem #4  

my anger is hidden
I speak in whispers
my spirit is ill
waiting for an angel
who will tell us
what will become of us

I say the wind beats me down
my soul does timid
a dead hydra
a withered flower
my brain recoils

you look at me
you consider
what I have done to you

then you order the new moon
exiled into shadow

© John Knoepfle 1978, 2004

This article appears in Jun 3-9, 2004.