Ebba Simone’s Reviews > The Indifferent World > Status Update

What's gone is ghost,
but rhythmic feet beat on,
stubborn life that doesn't know better

"It's morning when lines
break
under the rhythms of crow
call,
their gentle rocking of sky,
black and forth,
black and forth."

"like her hand when it cupped
the curve of my shoulders and
squeezed
warmth into my fear."

"Look again -- an
unwritten poem shifting
in the wind, an open
wound of torn air."