Snow Globe

The trains are falling like snowdrops
while we swim on rooftops
(This might be the end,
again) off box and shelf
she holds close to herself
singing darlin'
clementine, oh my
outside church bells
cut through our ears
as heaven turns our gears
-
they won't stop till 25.00,
well these clocks they seem right
but not for trains in spiral flight
[and only bubbles hold air]
we lit our stations ablaze
while the sun dug its own grave
-
The hands of God shook everything
we know, but at least we know
we're in her odd, old globe

By, <ole
8-14-10
(what do you think? I can't stand it.)