Tangled Treasures (While I Sweep)

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I can see your portrait in a corner, in the dust
hear your voice shrill as door hinges alive with rust
time can’t steal your features as the car rolls down the hill

Your arms pressed forward
and your head snapped back
froze in a pose that can never
look back. I find your silhouette,
bent, shrunken, shriveled, but still,
even while you bleed you don’t feel
regret, never seem to bend or wiggle

I have a smoke in the rain and
pull my thoughts together into
a symphony of tangled treasures
and tentacles of pain.

Out in the air, together in the breeze
our songs mingle and shrivel
I saw the curves, I just didn’t see the trees

Copyright 2017 Ronald J. Hoffman.

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