anne.seebach.poetry

and sin bleeds

leaching into
the paper-thin vessels
of the mind’s
patterning
colour sickening

your sin?
his sin?
a sin within?

immaterial

life sickens with it
the loathsome shade
disease-mottled fruits
spreading a sticky
veil

restorative dormant
shy elusive compassion
reaching out

and inward

to forgive
to melt the veil

room again
to breathe