august verlaine
slowly creeping that small way that things do
in the way of blood and gardens
the slow and yearning stretch to the grave
where the cry is tears and on top of the heat drains and
pours carefully like
tomorrow
a wash in the carefully crowded streets
the wet innocence
caustic bidding in teeth
never rotting teeth
bouncing in the aisle and down such
bravo, the day that slipped out beneath you and
august verlaine
the wind rattling like raspy leaves
me, the us here,
like blood
singing you to sleep in the cradle strapped
just sing