Moment of Silence.

Mary Elizabeth Taylor

After she descended no one really asked

how she got the scar.

they simply stared.

pierced through the shambles she called life,

tore through her false pretenses

dropped their cold gaze to her nail bed

and assumed.

assumed the dirt and blood,

tattooed beneath them

held buried secrets.

and it came

from clawing her way from hell...

never believing that an angel

can have both.

a keloid scar from the fall,

and the earthen remains

from constantly picking yourself up

and a part.

angels walk among us

and greet us with toothless smiles,

clutch bottomless nightmares,

while sipping dreams from

brown tinted bottles

masquerading as hope.

once i spied her,

crouched in the corner

main-lining our tomorrows,

and nodding through her past.

she spoke in tongues

disguised as yawns, and mumbles;

but i heard her.

and i still do.

screaming through the sun's rays

and whispering in the dead of night.

kdtaylor, 2007

section 8 coffee publications

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