It takes a lot of love to stop a jump, a fall, a fright.  
It takes too much love to straighten my tie. And tighten it round the door handle.
You can’t imagine how I hate this.
I climbed up the ladder. The top step was too narrow to sit.
I stood till I couldn't
then I jumped.

Living alone in two rooms,
Built on love and shallow fires .

He followed graves for life.

Like his father’s yellow hands strapped to the coffin brass,
He claims the black coat and stained shoes in fertile grass.
In enough time he sits alone,
But he can’t bare the heat.
The goat as he was known was blessed as he descent the street.
“ironic” but what else can it be.
Whispers of this hall reflect on sorry feelings.
To think he lived with death like this and died in a familiar scene