My Shadow

by William Schroeder

My shadow's perfection

Reflects me with soft edges

Round a dark form

And muted projections

My shadow's possession

Keeps still, twisting organs

Embedded in despair

And knotting convulsion

My shadow's protection

Wards off spears and lances

From cutting trenches

And sharp dissections

My shadow's with me

My shadow's in me

Struggling for me

Smoldering for me

On the hard ground

The hot ground the sun bakes

The cruel, burning ground

The deep, dark ground the sun hates

And I'm in it's debt

Because it hides my death

Till the sun sets behind the hill

And turns everything

Even me, to nil

Rate this submission


You must be logged in to rate submissions

Loading Comments