Kimberley ArmstrongMaking poetry out of other poetry
Comp 150February 8, 2008

The Rocks

The wind blows my hair
with great feisty gusts.
Clear blue skies
shine
as Blood freezes in my veins.

The rocks are moist with blood.

Malarky! I thought
of the red and black atrocity.
Dark water mixes;
sin
as Blood pools in the ocean.

The rocks are moist with blood.

The body must have fallen
days and days ago.
Or maybe it was
murder
as Blood boils in men’s hearts.

The rocks are always moist with blood.