Sunday, January 4, 2015

Shroud of pine - from "Northwest Passage," pilot episode

Focus on the sound,
white-tiled room and
humming machinery, throb of
distinctive wounds.

I need something to grab onto,
my connection suffering,
a witness to
the dead girl, autopsy
under the nail of her finger.

Leave us alone, please,
damage not responsive,
particles scraped up to a

horrified whine.

I'd like to look at her,
exposure to one word
that she hasn't said,
a shroud of pine.

We were close more than once.

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