of steel, i said, of steel.
if that were true, how do you
explain the salty oases burning
trails down my cheeks?
your love was much and
plenty, but my empty hands
and restless/oh bereft of rest
i haven't showered in days.
i think i'm holding out that
my face be tattooed on the inside
of their feet: not so obvious, but
there i would be after the long days.
last days--if only these days lasted
what will i do? i'm all alone and
your mercy isn't here: i've
squandered you like a used plate
and how will i know justification?
that our two soul's breach may
be an end to a prologue: the cusp
of our very lives. uncertain yet
uncertain! i know the unknown
it lies within my lungs--it's a
walking pneumonia and a parasitic
cancer. what ever will i do.
