So it all ends not with a
bang but

With

A

# *******

Whimper.

Sad night's in prayer.
Shriven of guilt.
On the freshly vacuumed
Floor.

Not the sounds of sad
crying but the whoosh
of stifled prayers

Of course. Penance
For crossed lines
In the ashfalt of
propriety.

Lord I know not

What

I have

Done.

Posters say travel.
I will crumple my
Not so sea-worth
weighted with
Soul. .

Whisper

Will you still
love me

Tomorrow.?


Caroline Shank
07.10.2024