the voices always change
in the dim light after sunset
from that of sweets coated in silica,
words slide off of a sharpened tongue
then echoes of gears grinding,
seizing air between the teeth
*
she was found there once, crushed
velvet and delicate porcelain debris
shards sinking through melting ice
of judgments bent to compulsion
now, carefully fading to the back
silent tinctures in the blankets
dreaming of jewels and carved stones
waiting for the skies to fill with light
© september 2011 heather brager
