emptier and what cannot be

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.