Richard Pierce

Poetry

The Dark Threads

The dark threads

Of a different track

Lead to questions

We can’t answer.

 

Fingers find the wrong touch

And wake with guilt made bare

In the tangled sheets of old sin.

 

Grey days are shadowless.

The sun stays away from our ignorance

And failure, and time stalls in a furnace of passion.

 

The dark threads of lost hours

Tangle us in unknown webs

To plough memory into infertile sand

Until we don’t know who we are.

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