Christopher Salisbury

Come softly, to the grave
New bohemian...like a torch
Creating shadows on the walls of
A screaming cave

The water flew into the picture
Coming from a vase or pitcher
Or a glass filled by an oceans
Enigmatic wave

And, though times' forgotten memory
Of fates misdirection
Explodes into a thousand different pieces
Of broken, lifeless glass

It turns the image we have come to know
Into a puzzle we will never understand...

-CMS