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Click hereLIFELINES
Breath, bone and blood
reaching out like souls shivering,
hoping distance searching eyes
will not turn away from the tugging
of hollow voices like frantic delicate faces.
it wasn't supposed to be this way,
but flesh is in its final grasps.
maybe this chill
is meant to be.
what else is there left?
these intense hands
can't save them from suffocating.
this is what happens
when images flicker,
then come to an end,
like ice in the veins frozen still.
your poems usually are
this one I felt was especially powerful and grabbed me more than most