Image

She stares at me

from behind the written lines,

right through words

as my lips read them. Translucent

images of death move

from cities to villages and other

countries, across her face

lettered arcades floating

against a page of time, her face

and the word written

million times over

and over in black, headlined,

stands approved.

On a small corner of a page

I never knew her, nor why, she stood

stuck as an underline  

haunting pages after pages

your every day.

If she begins to sweep

her words will today end?