Ceremony
August 18, 2009
Awake with eyes still closed
The feel of blood trickling from forehead
Knowing the touch of life and it’s feel against skin.
A red line running down past an eye and over a cheek
The track run by a lovers finger
A touch to sweet.
Thirst reaches out past plate, knife and fork to glass
It’s place not seen but felt filling the space before
Glass is to heavy to move, placed to perfect to leave.
Ticking from the plate is a worry
A finger before the hand ceases it’s cry
Edge so sharp and skin so weak.
Burst red from finger to hand
A feeling well known
Plate ticks but worry is forgotten.
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