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Ivory Towers





Ivory Towers






This is not my first burial.

I used to pray

while wearing painted clothes.

Now I don only dull sin cloth.

All my favors devoured

within the walls of desecrated ivory towers.




I

not quite elderly,

yet my youth entirely spent.




A mirrored encounter,

my history sung

within the moth-eaten pages of a diary.





Youthful yesterdays bound for discovery

laid out fine and

set on repeat.

Lessons doomed for duplication

throughout all my ages.

For I have yet to absorb

that when all manner of positive things

are finally fulfilled,

all will be returned to me.



Linda Imbler


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