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Abandoned
November 4, 2009
I ring out
skin flakes, with the fissures
running up my barren hands.
in a town full of your ghosts.
Weaving in and out of shops,
calling out memories as you coast in the sleepy clouds
swelling with God’s wounds, whispering
our beautiful lies.
That lie cold and marooned in the melting ice.
the Wind’s newborn,
my balloon-heart, pops
wilts on a fence, too black and dignified.
and all the dead air escapes like reckless children
playing a game I
can’t quite
remember.
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