A grating peace goes on and
on in their tacet alcove
He sharpens his tools
readying her for the news
She folds down her sheets and
sheds animosity like lace
pillaging her adolescent mind
in pursuit of an awkward pause
Then her anger is like nothing he
has known in days past, a bloody
yearning, a spade that digs a
grave for her simple childhood
Class is over, all their learning
scrubbed clean by dripping day
dimpled with divine uncertainty
and hastily set afire
I mutter I love you again
again, until it means nothing
and in the whitewashed solitude
my sounds scatter like gravel
30 September 2009
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