Healing hold begone. Bring on
the pain that clings to eager, stringing
hopes along a chain of darkness.
Nigh upon the rise, we tear
his tune apart, stir humming in
his heart. His anxious hands below
conduct wry tests of letting go
of each unbidden grime and razor
down marks left behind. Some level
showmanship empowers routes
to air—exhausted climbing there,
he taps his recourse from the mouth—
unruly words, unforged, surmount
what flickers onto lives of rain-slicked
hurry. Words depart and see
him fade away—horizons to
replace the outer frame of what
we knew he saw: some rhyme, some scheme,
some law. Some deluge infiltrates him
now, brings up the level, groating
all in dirt. Uncertain who
sees next assault, we unleash bullets,
pepper wisdom to a fault.

Debride such stolen earth. Unclasp
his locket, see what he called home.
The fire is limitless. All passions
foam and soil and solve the fear
of prime depletion. What deletion
from the rolls means not the loss
of souls?