Asleep on the deck
of burning ships
whose prows leave a wake
behind like a slow death

I see the white backs
of strange women, sea widows
breathing like low thunder
on the other side of some river

They dream of ghost sailors
aboard ships, and pull the sheets
between their legs, like a flag
flying in the fog, a dark wind.

هر دو بی فرزند هستیم (متفاوت)/we are both childless, differently
——————————————————————————


let us not ask each other or god

the why, just how life worked out

and maybe by a choice unconfessed

~

yet we both lie.

~

you possess thousands of offspring,

tend to their every need, breast feed

them water, special nutrients, stroking

their leaves, worry about their viruses,

you, dying just, a little, when, one rooted

looks up and says, “I am dying mother,

thank you for your love.”


~

my ***** produced two men,

each now, differentially,

lost, lost to me, and daily

privately, in word and wet,

weep my losses, for what

is a man who had children,

but goes down into his grave

gray haired, with none in

attendance to refill the soil

that his grave grayed body

requires to

hide his wasted,

childless

life.

These days I'm in
I'm so thin-skinned
You can look but do not touch me

It's no use
I bleed and bruise
Like a crying boys skinned knee

This getting old
Is getting old
With how old plays for keeps

My youth I'd miss
The only problem is
I've about lost that memory

Which brings me back
To the fact
Of all my cuts and scrapes

As I look at them
Not remembering when
Or how they made their way

To adorn
This body worn
From years of foolish games

With no thought about
This bleeding out
I do every single day