You always said, violence
was in you. Everything was dying
around.
There was a tacit understanding―
enacted,
interceding with―
a lasso. The baked silence
always stares at you.
I have no praise,
no condemnation for anyone.
Inevitably you **** the moon,
your thumb,
your blood.
A poem falls on the ground
to breathe again.
Jan 15, 2017
Jan 15, 2017 at 10:20 PM UTC
You always said, violence
was in you. Everything was dying
around.
There was a tacit understanding―
enacted,
interceding with―
a lasso. The baked silence
always stares at you.
I have no praise,
no condemnation for anyone.
Inevitably you **** the moon,
your thumb,
your blood.
A poem falls on the ground
to breathe again.