Decent or indecent wasn’t the
way of it – no obvious intent as
far as I could tell, things merely
happened like an unravelling
no conscious planning meant it
sprang out of deeply subliminal
space – arriving at a pace that
maimed suspense breathlessly
she merely reined forces bent on
devouring her soul – welding a
lover’s ears with whispers traded
as unabashed compliments
to this day he knows no more of
what went right or wrong in the
moments before volcanic events
enslaved their fragile mortality
© 8 March 2010, I. D. Carswell
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