She’ll never know
The soreness on knuckles
The bite marks on fingers
Anger dispersed upon two by fours
Through veins she’s never felt the pulse of

But she is so beautiful
The stabbing of deeper grey shades
The moon she’s so proud of
The girl I’m so proud of

She’s never been more gorgeous
To me, than seven months
And scribbling on canvas

I beat the **** out of door frames
I bit the hell out of my own hands
I loved the soul out of a woman
And wasn’t even the man I wanted

The geese flew over, early morning
in strict formation
There seemed to be more than usual
Perhaps a dozen