10410250_10152520526568760_4959234642558544550_nI write of lives in indices,

Scenes sketched within margins

Of halts for breath in sentences,

Of freedom in parenthesis

In our secret garden,


I write of lives in ink;

Hers inscribed in water

In quiet apocalypse

Others would call order,


I write of lives,

Their curve in words

At boundary lines

To disinter,


“I”, write

I, not to please,

But for all interred I’s

I write of lives in indices,


Those only angels heard.


Antonia Sara Zenkevitch


  1. antoniazen says:

    Reblogged this on The 48%.

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