Sometimes the pain screams red the raw <br />And tugs the push <br />Into the from and jagged corners. <br />The furling weir <br />drags on and trails <br />blazing backward flames of perihelion anguish <br />while all the time <br />hidden deep <br />and as useful as forgotten notes <br />lies … <br />the point? <br /> <br />(3 November 1999)<br /><br />Diana van den Berg<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/beyond-the-brink/
