Run, Rabbit

Will you tell them about silence.
How foxholes echo through
the muted damp of your throat,
for you too, are burrows

you too will tell them
of your travels inside.
How the brook far beyond
your Grandmotherís house
is where you want to lay
your face, your hands.

You want to drown,
but only enough to explain
the definition of an echo

and the foxes, and the fish,
and the warrens in your heart
they have written their
hushed letters, too.
Written by Goya
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 3 reading list entries 1
comments 3 reads 178
Commenting Preference: 
The author encourages honest critique.

Latest Forum Discussions
Today 1:02am by nutbuster
Today 00:42am by Grace
Today 00:34am by Ahavati
Yesterday 11:25pm by Ahavati