Barking windows framed to an offense
Distant fading ghosts in a burlap, black gulls
Moaning trove of moving sand, and
Moonstruck, shadows as thick as bloating tar.
And I have worn this in, like winter boots,
And swallowed it whole, like a raw string bean,
I must ask, was it just the crimes we committed
That froze your eyes in so steady a gaze?
And was it just from breathing through the pipe
Safe that I caught you like an autumn cold,
A migratory taste of something better than
my fast-ticking years had ever known?
Tags:General Arts & Entertainment Travel Language & Culture Lifestyle
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