the harrow

Loss of Evening

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© 2002 maria malacrida
All rights reserved.

landscapes in television, still lives coloured
by blurred lines and unexpected silence--
and what happens when silence
invades it all?
the death of nightingales, breath stopped by
crushing lungs and sucking out soul: its
black purpose grows under the sun and
hardens like statues.
flipping leaves, colour falling inside light,
inside test tubes, loneliness against
chemistry and inertia--always a night
away.

the screen invades it all, swallowing voice
and weight of silence.
candles mark the time, the melting hours
closer to whiteness, need against skin and wood
against back.
and rain hesitates, falling but
unable to stop.

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