Saturday, 24 August 2013

buddy can you spare?

you’re cold, button up,
batten down the hatched glass
these mean talking ghosts offer
little anonymity to the  marrowfat
of shoulder high memories

sister in all but time
an “a star” in the morning

yet the many delights,
ours but for the cleansed eyes
and thighs, came as you sounded
memory in your truth’s thunder

blackened through evidence
guilty by my whence exchanged
I command the devil’s songs but
am I just faded delight?

“swing more” she demands, washed
guilty thrice through her heels
and laced heart and slumber now standing
in strength washed on a once
cracked spit drawn open mouthed
and verdict free

poured closer to the two hole cluster
the depth of a friendship must fight back

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