three tangly trees
photography by owen hartford
poem by sadi ranson-polizzotti
Secret
It’s not what you think:
The smile deceives – a thief.
It brushes against, holds
While the other hand
Palms the bright blade.
Do not be deceived.
Such saccharine lips, they
Conceal the sharp cry;
Shattered eye, salt wet
The heart’s deluge.
It drowns the breath.
Last beat, certain death.
It is over.
