Frogs

My heart
        breaks 
its bands

expanding to
            thrice
its size

The iron bars 
             crack
open

The bones
of tiny birds

The teeth
of wounded corpses

My heart

can hold
          no
more

It goes 
        forth

A beggar
into the 
       snowy
Christmas
         morning

An alto 
       harmony
too dissonant for
hope, 

it 
   smiles 
'neath the brows 
of indifference, 

and I

I
 rise

Surrounded 

by living 
         ghosts
unborn,
               
breaking forth
the grille of our 
                 clasped 
hands

Behind my time
I am

    Behind 
my 
    Time

Look to see me

No
     more

 

 

 

 

 

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