Burnt Caramel
Torn sharp dreams from wounded money.
The caramel burns on the stove and sticks
to the saucepan; can't get it out –
everything is this way.
Tragedy is something for others to scorn.
It never stops the world from terrorizing
the mistaken moment. Waiting as the hour hand
turned away and the heartspring wound down.
There is a small little secret for you to share.
Live with it, yours to bear, till you can take no more.
YOU ARE READING
The Dragon Became a Modern Poetaster
PoetryPoetry is a dance of words, a guise of flesh, and a reprise of thought. The myths of old are forgotten on modern tongues. Such adventurous spirits seek new vessels - fresh words to don and call their own. We shall write them home, you and I. Let the...
