All I have
For this world
Is the poetry I write
Half-sleeping at 3am.
While the cold early morning
Wind whips ’round my bones.
And I know upon waking
The morning’s swallowed the
Wet and beating part of my heart.
And the drumming of the day
Will rattle my failed attempts like
A bottle of beads, bound and shaking.
So, let’s wrap me up in whatever
My soul’s sloughed off today.
Let’s make love while another stanza
Is stolen by twilight howling,
Desperately curling like strewn ribbons
Into the velvet-lipped dark
Past the place where the gods bid my muse stay. And she stays.