Covered Over


It was down deep
and covered over with vines
Barely visible, inoffensive
buried.
A sentence came like a scythe
chopping a vine at a time
exposing bits of the hidden thing,
cutting through the skin
causing it to bleed.
A scar became a wound in a word.
Impossible to pile the fresh
over the 'not so dead.'
I stand a few moments away,
make a place for the new word
and let my blood flow
like a river
carrying me to Hades
where the vines are so thick
that you can not be seen.