William Michaelian

Poems, Notes, and Drawings

Last Rites

Each silence has its corresponding sound, and the other way around.

The bird, the bee, the softly falling gown. The words by which they’re known.

The waiting train, the one insane, the cricket, and the temple bell.

The gentle rhyme, the end of time, the thing that makes you smile now.


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Categories: New Poems & Pieces

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