Years inside Moments

September 15, 2009

Your painted face
Tattooed eyes
The mess behind
You made
Turning circles
Into diamonds

In the soil
Under an overcast
Under and over
The shadows of school
children’s graves

too much to ask
for you to kiss me
soft enough
to turn back your hair
from its cigarette smoke gray

I do admit
I held onto bombs
Inside my breast pocket
Chest sockets as empty
As the spools
beside your lathe


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