Sunday, June 7, 2009

It came in a box by JL Denman 2009

It came in a box

It came in a box. Beating, dripping, oozing red rivers.
It came in a bow, blackened, burnt, hardly living.
It came in a bow, shredded, stabbed, honing by two veins of hope.

I gave it to you
No, you found it
Maybe it was cosmic intervention that sent you on the trail searching for the devastated mess trapped in a strong box of bone and metal and jagged spikes of pain.

Somewhere out there, buried under rubble, drowned in hot tar, bound by terrible marsh roots it hunkered.
But through rivers festering with black mosquitoes, jungle snakes, poisoned reptiles, wicked wizards in too green garb marred by to sick vomit, you traversed. You crept. You slouched. You charged. You searched and looked and scoured.

I gave it to you
No, you found it.
Cosmic intervention and your strong will carved out trenches, slaughtered feral beast to find it- it- trapped in the hell of loss, rejection, pain, despair, devastation.

you rescued it.
that dripping, lacerated, singed, sliver of my heart left- left nearly destroyed in a box.

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