Christina Conrad last song you come you and your claustrophobia to drop in my lap you never thought I could have changed from a wooden martyr in a bath of your blood my feet thorns your moon is not in the same place as mine the river flows fast over smooth rock where you lie that red fish you catch with your hands gapes from a bowl of rock I never saw the snakes that glide round you your letter comes from a summer far away you cannot feel the winter that has come down on me

Art by Christina Conrad

Copyright © 2000 Christina Conrad All Rights Reserved