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:
- steady rain
- howling wind
- slight creaks of our bed
- taps of my keyboard
- your chuckle
- our cat's claws on the floorboards
- a boiling kettle
- swirling coffee in a mug
- toast popping up
- soft click of our bedroom door
- clinking dishes
- your heartbeat
- pattering feet
- running water
- your breathing
1.

Like a white snowdrop in the spring
From child to girl I grew,
And thought no thought, and heard no word
That was not pure and true.

2.

And when I came to seventeen,
And life was fair and free,
A suitor, by my father's leave,
Was brought one day to me.

3.

“Make me the happiest man on earth,”
He whispered soft and low.
My mother told me it was right
I was too young to know.

4.

And then they twined my bridal wreath
And placed it on my brow.
It seems like fifty years ago —
And I am twenty now.

5.

My star, that barely rose, is set;
My day of hope is done —
My woman's life of love and joy —
Ere it has scarce begun.

6.

Hourly I die — I do not live —
Though still so young and strong.
No dumb brute from his brother brutes
Endures such wanton wrong.

7.

A smouldering shame consumes me now —
It poisons all my peace;
An inward torment of reproach
That never more will cease.

8.

O how my spirit shrinks and sinks
Ere yet the light is gone!
What creeping terrors chill my blood
As each black night draws on!

9.

I lay me down upon my bed,
A prisoner on the rack,
And suffer dumbly, as I must,
Till the kind day comes back.

10.

Listening from heavy hour to hour
To hear the church- clock toll —
A guiltless ******* in flesh,
A murderess in soul.

11.

Those church- bells chimed the marriage chimes
When he was wed to me,
And they must knell a funeral knell
Ere I again am free.

12.

I did not hate him then; in faith
I vowed the vow “I will;”
Were I his mate, and not his slave,
I could perform it still.

13.

But, crushed in these relentless bonds
I blindly helped to tie,
With one way only for escape,
I pray that he may die.

14.

O to possess myself once more,
Myself so stained and maimed!
O to make pure these shuddering limbs
That loveless lust has shamed!

15.

But beauty cannot be restored
Where such a blight has been,
And all the rivers in the world
Can never wash me clean.

16.

I go to church; I go to court;
No breath of scandal flaws
The lustre of my fair repute;
For I obey the laws.

17.

My ragged sister of the street,
Marked for the world's disgrace,
Scarce dares to lift her sinful eyes
To the great lady's face.

18.

She hides in shadows as I pass —
On me the sunbeams shine;
Yet, in the sight of God, her stain
May be less black than mine.

19.

Maybe she gave her all for love,
And did not count the cost;
If so, her crown of womanhood
Was not ignobly lost.

20.

Maybe she wears those wretched rags,
And starves from door to door,
To keep her body for her own
Since it may love no more.

21.

If so, in spite of church and law,
She is more pure than I;
The latchet of those broken shoes
I am not fit to tie.

22.

That hungry baby at her breast —
Sign of her fallen state —
Nature, who would but mock at mine,
Has made legitimate.

23.

Poor little “love- child” — spurned and scorned,
Whom church and law disown,
Thou hadst thy birthright when the seed
Of thy small life was sown.

24.

O Nature, give no child to me,
Whom Love must ne'er embrace!
Thou knowest I could not bear to look
On its reproachful face.
Where do the willows weep?
Where wars are fought and corpses sleep,
Where time is stopped and love is fleeting,
And all the blessed take the beatings.

Where do the willows weep?
Where the wicked rest on council seat,
Where infants wail unconsoled,
With no one to love,
To have and to hold.

Tell me where the willows weep!
Where justice crawls and corruption leaps,
Where righteous men live in the streets,
Is THIS the place where willows weep?!

Is THIS the place where willows cry?!
Where only evil can satisfy,
Where wings are clipped and none can fly?
All "truths" are started with a lie
A lie that penetrates so deep,
It haunts the cities in late night sleep,
Into the children's dreams it shall seep.
Yes, this is where the willows weep.
He was the epitome of a loveless boy, and he knew it. In fact, that was what kept him restlessly awake most nights, especially on this particular evening. He glanced down at the dark mess of hair that was laid across his chest and listened to the soft emission of peaceful breathing slipping from the lips of the girl whose name he did not remember. For a second, he debated on searching the dark corners of his mind in an attempt to remember it, but he soon realized he never even bothered to ask. This disappointed him for one reason - it was another question mark that he had to add to the list of names that he kept pinned to the front of his brain. At the thought of this particular list, he felt sick, as though an ounce of regret had seeped into his stomach and spread like an infection and now threatened to rise like bile. He knew he needed to keep it down, so he leaned over his bed and wrapped his fingers around the neck of the glass bottle he kept hidden in the bed springs. He sat back up and slowly unscrewed the cap, his eyes mesmerized by the amber liquid that swirled around the bottom half like a whirlpool of gold. He brought the top to his lips and tipped it back, filling his mouth with the warmth of forgetfulness and feeling as it burned his throat like fire the entire way down. It instantly washed him clean of every bad memory he had done his best to forget for the past week. Every tear that every girl had shed on their knees in front of him, begging him to love them; every cigarette that he had chain-smoked on the rooftop of his apartment building in an effort to cloud these very memories (unsuccessfully); every streetlamp that he had found solace in as he walked the streets mindlessly at three am, searching for answers that never came to him. He closed his eyes and imagined the whiskey rising inside of him until it leaked into his lungs and filled them, drowning him. He held his breath, pondering how long it would take for him to go lifeless in this position. But the sudden stop in the rise and fall of his chest caused the female lying on it to stir in her sleep, draping her arm around him and pulling him even closer. He felt sick again so he took another sip. He knew that when he looked back on this evening, he wouldn't remember it, which was becoming a classic move on his part. In fact, his life had become nothing more than disconnected nights with nameless and faceless females and fire whiskey that filled all the empty space within him. And he wasn't sure how that had come to be, but he no longer cared enough to even attempt to figure it out.
I have never been a religious soul but I found a cathedral in my bedroom in the form of your body hardening beneath the white linens attached to my mattress. It was the perfect combination; I'd begin on my knees between your thighs and sin again and again in the form of sliding you down my throat, and then I would crawl up your body and sit on your lap and rock back and forth as I prayed for redemption. I never knew grace until you pressed your kiss to my breast and I never felt a revelation until you tucked your hand inside me for safe-keeping and wouldn't remove it until my whole body was shaking. And because I have never been a religious soul I fear that I cannot promise to return to this cathedral but I'll be ****** if I don't burn it down before I go.
 Jul 2013 revesreves
Ogden Nash
Praise the spells and bless the charms,
I found April in my arms.
April golden, April cloudy,
Gracious, cruel, tender, rowdy;
April soft in flowered languor,
April cold with sudden anger,
Ever changing, ever true --
I love April, I love you.
 Jul 2013 revesreves
Mikitara
Fourth of July**
I.
****** canned southern sweet tea,
II.
orange street lights
half shrouded by Spanish moss,
III.
a stranger in a red '67 Mustang,
IV.
and holy oil annointings on our right hands
on this humid night
(was supposed to post this on the 4th but forgot, but here it is now.)
two gun shots
circled around your brain
like the world

you heard the bullet
crunch through his head
like it was your own

remember when you were five,
and you played army together?

remember when you were twelve,
and you started smoking **** in his basement?

i remember

you wrapped your body around him
bleeding into the pavement
like bandages around wounds

michael
you are not made of gauze

michael
this is not your fault

michael
don't feel guilty for the laws
you've broken

you are not broken

michael
your friend is not gone

his body has been stolen
by bullets to the neck
and the jaw
you are not alone

this is not your fault

blow may numb your nose
but it doesn't change this
guilt

don't punch walls when you're angry
you're knuckles are not a letter
to the men who killed him...

i know it's hard to let go
of the past
but ****** clothes can't stay
crammed in zip lock bags forever

standing in that parking lot
waiting for a second chance
so you can taste the limp limbs
of killers
won't give you a reason
to stay alive

it's time to take out the ***** laundry michael
listen, listen to me when i speak

don't you dare believe
you deserve to feel this way
michael
i will show you the utmost sincerity
even when you sexualize me

michael
you laugh at group therapy
like we're watching a funny TV show

michael
we play catch with a rubber duck
and you tell me
you don't remember who ***** you

stuttering childlike michael,
you don't believe in the inner child
but you have one
he just doesn't act his age
you don't know how to swim
but you are wet behind the ears

your brain is a novel
not a blank page
don't look away when i say
you are bright
let those words keep you up at night
instead of the nightmares

michael
it's okay to be sad
it's okay to say
you are afraid
you keep tripping
over rock-ribbed pavement
replaying the moment
you couldn't save him

in another life
you must have been a pit bull
your teeth clamped fast around
faceless men in black trucks
you're allowed to cry
so loosen your jowl and look up

you can treat compassion
with disdain...
and rush to meet it
with a propane tongue...
setting fire to everyone
you love

but eventually you will
combusting in on yourself
you are yearning to communicate
burning up like
alkane C3-H8

slipping your pinkies through *******
you are a powdered-nosedive
you have survived
the underbelly of trauma
now come back up
michael you can
break the surface

i know that echoing hallways remind...
you have seen too much
too young

but michael
you are good...
you just don't know
what's good for you
part one in a series
 Jul 2013 revesreves
L A Rice
Somewhere I have a photograph
of you: three, fat and
happy at Maryann’s table and
spreading your pudding dessert
onto the tablecloth, the messy artist
caught in the moment of creation.

I want to hold that picture and
breathe in again your proud fingers
suspended over the table, your eyes
already knowing what pleasure
you will bring to us, your laugh
sounding silently in the fixed frame.

I need to see you there, held in
the blues and browns and reds and
innocently unaware that one faulty
piece of your heart would weaken and
nearly give up when you were fifteen
and still laughing.
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