the tragedy
has always been
in her eyes
where yours
had wondered
often times
while your hands
were occupied
with mine

I can not lay
with blame
or the
milder versions
thereof
I can only
pull up
push up
chin up
this pin up
looming in your
rearview

sink sink sink
in your
rhyming days
the sheep
so lost
but over fed
cry to me now
you're weak
with the hope
of every
fetid girl

ours is the hour
of divinity
ours is the cry
on high
fire your waking days
for allowing my eyes
to close
while yours
are
open

01/17/2006

Posted on 01/17/2006
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