B. Sven Telander


Persephone's Gloves - Poem by B. Sven Telander

Trapped in the casual
massacre of a deep rest,

cold footprints in the snow follow
her wherever she goes

a midnight fog taps the thin
glass of her prism,

she waves,
it winks

a mystery exit and she
promises to write

if it keeps whispering
the litany of cruel secrets;

when the fog that is not fog
kisses her, she smiles and

tries not to
cry too loud.


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Poem Submitted: Sunday, October 7, 2012

Poem Edited: Monday, October 8, 2012


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