By Madison Date: 6 May 1999
residue on a writing table who left this mess? traces pages of wounded dreams reduced to a shadow of gritty flecks crying to be heard through shuttered windows and empty halls a whisk of a well-groomed hand and they are gone the poison, the counterpoison the radical cure splintered from life the crow's feet laughing the tears of love like dull-red embers of soul they fall in a single silhouette to the floor M Madison 6 may 99