those nights
when she sleeps beside him
she traces things
above her on the ceiling
below her on the bed
when she faces the walls
drunk among the ivories
like teeth that leave with barely a wink
like teeth that have
forgotten to drink
from the fountain of youth
there are those times
when bears leave the cave
when they live after dying
for awhile
she braces for horror
hit by an über another
drunk driver to boot
there are things she’s not made for
she may die of old age or
repent with a gun
aimed at her own unsatisfied self
what else
forgiveness in the pointless glory
the father
from abandoned raves
the mother for her dangerous stealth
they died of lies, the age,
and poverty’s wealth
the truth has its way with her
she’s the essence of stealth
indulgences nailed to a pitted church door
confounded by spelling
before they knew how
all is now and fancy free
among the cowards and the brave
all is undermined again
in the philosopher’s spotless cave
until and thereafter
when earth loses its way
she may die of old age or drink wine and be gay
nyc 4.22.24
