Sometimes

Sometimes a murmur cataracts
Through the abysmal shadows of my mind
Flickering down through the sky
Sunlight glimpsing through the trees in a car humming by 
Like the flickering of an old picture movie
Sometimes a whisper funnels through
As an afterthought to words long left the lungs 
Words long lost off the tongue 
And it is the shaking of your bones,
The rattling of marrow after we've already won 
The muttering is a pulsing vein and a straining hand
Desperately eroding away as it tries to say 
To tell me one simple enigmatic  word:
Stay. 


-anna sluder 

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