of morning and the din
of afternoon.
From the flight into darkness
of those I continue
to love.
From my inarticulate body
and the syllables
that clog my mouth.
From having to say
"nothing" when a stranger
assks me what I do.
From my worst sins.
From the failure
of any other absolution.
Nincsenek megjegyzések:
Megjegyzés küldése