Rhapsody of Precise Heartbreak

The winter evening settles in

To me like a four o’clock darkness

That haze of waiting after abandonment

 

For something more than masquerades

You used to toss the blanket

From the bed for my back

 

Now I am a cold burning of a thousand

Sordid images, of the flickering

On the ceiling, while you have other lovers

 

I must clasp my bed’s edge

With a cold knife from the gutters

Of my trampled impatience & innocence

 

I belong to something that comes after now

The notion of some infinitely gentle suffering

Some infinite capacity to endure ups and downs

 

While the world revolves like an old woman

I gather fuel in my vacant loss

I breathe through the floors of memory

Reviews

[Emily B]

strength and purpose and amazing one of a kind imagery

Friend Kortas would call this top shelf work, I quite agree