Our Erring

something we possess - a kind of attribute.

ah the filigree,

a bandage around my copper heart,

it fills the opening to a dirge I'm writing

in my head

my poor begotten piece of cranial scree

- a sanctuary nonetheless -

I feel unlatched and unfrozen 

though still very cold

to the morsels of radiance

emitting from your poor sun

my mocking, biting

bitterly unsweet revamped curse

falls onto hard paving stone

where

I sit and read.

I sat and read

and I fixed a gaze on a spot and 

blinded myself with empty rage

at what?

at what?

the curl in my toe?

the crooked washing machine's heaving spin?

the pain in my neck?

the gust of wind up a stranger's skirt?

how so?

how not so!

unfair it all is, but we, like our little rat cousins

endure and prosper 

despite ourselves 

and our erring 

Reviews

[Thomas Fitzgerald]

Simple, stripped and raw. I find it reads very well and easy to display imagery, well done, good read.