does it slowly bubble up,

like water over drains?

is it dawn upon a white-room wall?

will it sway like our legs,

in a dying day?

a loving word,

lifting curses from a loved one's lips?

is it backroad watered dirt,

under a moonless night,

revived by the morning light.

a chipped tooth,

in another drunken fight.

or the thought to lose that loving sigh.

that treat such broken men kindly.