5 03 2015

Motherless child

you send me sad songs after midnight

to catch and collar

my feral heart.


Ever see a graceful thing die?

Ever watch the crumbling

of a long-necked creature

shot out of the sky?


Dog of misery,

I am no port of call,

or hole to fill

with your sharp, acrid secrets.


Ever let a woman

bring you to your knees?

Ever wait at dark windows

to see the lights go on?


I dream of you, summertime,

and the furious undertow of lips.

Then wake to the chloride scent

of a washed out, septic dawn,

and the cold certainty

of one who has been forgotten.




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