you’re quite invisible—avenged woman’s
work—I never found you. the devil was in me, those pomegranates were leaking,
it was much fire fierce disappearance. I know you’ve life, a soul dying, I was
alert to Satan’s voice. so baptized, much trembling, sure-death’s tremors. I never
met you. we missed paths. I just met you.
fury in distaste memories in
hurting me while I said so much in one whiff.
it seems unfair, it’s uncool,
uncouth, a man designated to his illness. never a soul with a voice but more a
specimen, something to dissect, some monster happening into humanhood.
we died early on. an infant
returned. mother was cruel. bleeding with spirits in a daze a map a mansion.
assigned a voice, a skeptical woman, while it felt decent to fall at love’s
mat. more I should give. less I should take. more fever or deliverance or
across a slow melody.
by pain you give by hurt I gave by
new problems I receive. you’ve strength left. you’ve caring left. I shouldn’t
be dying. it shouldn’t be remorse. a dream to a fish, a grave to a turtle, so
little respect when a nerve was exposed.
aha. or alas. or ha.
so coarse so cavalier where it must
be a story—those fretted bullets, those last helmets, a woman will take the helm.
can’t stop thinking, so little was
given, sour aches feel fettered.
