the amber room

it was square or one too many-sided,
its walls were loved by many hands,
its windows were loved by many eyes,
the sky beyond the ceiling was prayed to,
that no star would fall, no angel visit,
sleep was scarce; dreams were too close,
eternity was not a woman too dolled up
for death, for death was not welcome,
my grandmother used to break away
from her story about a boy named Kevin,
and the flowers that were never too lovely,
when my grandfather would come out of his dream
about a girl named Ruth and her hands
that were always cold; they must come
to this place before waking; they came near
deep in their bones, where they shatter free
from the bloody rootlessness of their hearts,
i doubted the existence and the necessity
of this state of mind, until i came to know
some people closer to my heart than blood,
you would tell me i used to break away,
from the system or the routine,
i dream too much, and i just tell you
it's because i live too much out in the world,
out of my skin, and they used to hold me,
they used to hold me................

Reviews

[Emily B]

it is good to read you

I miss poetry