Procession
By the table crowded with capsules,
Thermometers, cards with signatures
That once meant love, telephone numbers
That filled your pockets like Crumpled roses, you chart the rise
And fall of fever, writing on
A shadowed page through empty hours
When no friend calls, as though
Familiarity carried plague
And by a look, a word or gesture,
They, too, would become another carrier
In that long procession without an end.
-Michael Miller (:
By the table crowded with capsules,
Thermometers, cards with signatures
That once meant love, telephone numbers
That filled your pockets like Crumpled roses, you chart the rise
And fall of fever, writing on
A shadowed page through empty hours
When no friend calls, as though
Familiarity carried plague
And by a look, a word or gesture,
They, too, would become another carrier
In that long procession without an end.
-Michael Miller (:
♥ 12:01 AM