His heart was disconcertingly dark tethered to the bark of the
last fig tree and crying bitter tears but I could not navigate
within its minutiae and lost in its damaged lobes my sight left me
wandering in his city of pain for the mornings were most bleak and
he was compulsively unsettled scrubbing cast-iron and porcelain and
wildly foraging in the sandbox of his past seeking his anger his delirium
his reason for debilitation or a pill for the unending burn so
I threw him a line screaming without profit and gave of my tears my water
any resource to save and be saved and in my passion my sweat ceased
my voice ran dry much to my curiosity for I had fancied myself
a wellspring of unending love but the sparrow that once
gleamed golden in me was erased as I buckled in the silver sand
but in my absence he flowered laying down behind me and
clasping my dirty-cold neck his arm over my pallid remains and
through my stale eyelids I see the horizon flash green as
the dusk dives into the mountain and the stars beat 'round the waxing moon
for a dreamless night must always follow a trying day
12 January 2011
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