March Poems, No.13

Painting by Bernhard Heisig


March Poems, No. 13


She steps,
Her steps.
As soundless as a star,
As dead as starlight.
Her steps leave ashes on the blue gravel,
Specks of black
As if night were a bottle
And was broken on the path.
The wine that once made the bottle glow
Had disappeared long ago.


Duane Locke

Posted over on A Little Poetry