2009 -- 1.2 (Spring) Poetry

In the End by Sarah Ward ~ep

Roaming the field in solitude, I’m declaring need to the heavens
Spilling death on the snow before me–red cold pressed to my lips
My hands feel unattached with wandering fingers.
Open my coat so I can become one with the frozen ground.
Free.  Grace forward and wait for the fluff to settle
Each flake plops light on my back
Warmth has never seemed so minute as this shrinking heart
With every shriveling beat left in my throat
I widen my lips to suck in the snow
Welcoming the slow freeze of my eyes
that will never see past the leaves
dead on the wandering oak tree.