Monday, March 30, 2009


It matters where you are

In comfort and illusion

A tendency to slip away

Rain falls in a world where you still are ok

I tripped up six steps to stop the night from swallowing you whole

As petals graced three singing ships and blessed the cargo they stole

A pocket watch on a silver chain

A single bullet to kiss your name

In slavery she scrawled his visage

As cold clouds of perfume

Across the dead side of the moon

In cursive grip, unreadable script

You look like no one else

But still so much like her.