by
the wound is life, infected by love, with misery moving music.
spawn
from father, unalike, more hauntings; volcanic inferiority, no wheels, a rebel
fretting deaths.
genetic
minerals, caiman alikeness, shoebill trauma; so exhausted, or floating higher,
noticed for silence.
have
not loved her, as accordingly, I have failed her; so dear to mountains,
cascading into tears, falling into fragile oceans.
inner
futility, left utter hopelessness, rebuilt, having to bite master’s hand.
it
comes with clauses, provisions, “I love you as long as you obey; I need you as
long as I have control.”
breathing
is wilderness, closed in corridors, traveling the desert vestibule.
beware
inside, the costumes we admire, become the falsity we live.
so
revered, like old cotton, so naked, like garden roses, at mercy in self, as
forever forgiving intestines.
the
first of many wars …
