The Poem (For The Poetics Group)

Blood spilled on a page,
A mix of joy and rage,
A rhyme that has been torn
From where my heart is worn;

It reaches out to you,
Naked, clear to view.
So, lacerate its skin
And find the gold within

Then dance around its soul
And tear at every hole
Until it's sculpted right.
Come, help me shed its light.


© 2002 Pam H. Murray


May 25, 2002