These are the dark hours
When cold starlight draws out the miles:
The mercy of the clean nights falling away to
Patchwork visions of you.
I will wake to a beat of peace
Then bear the full-frontal assault -
That mournful blow to the stomach.
A new detail to mourn.
The black tickling curls to wake me
The timbre of your argument
The clean curve, the pained tenderness -
The parting gift you promised to finish.
They circle the dawn and dance until sunset -
Then they are freed.
Goodnight darling.
Good morning my love.
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Comments
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...wait for the punchline.
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