by James Diaz
Hid under stove light
listening, leaning in
for rain water
the latter days of a badly lived life
your brow burning
with a story you don't know how to tell
fills me
but no light in the undertow
a body asleep
in its secondary life
a home is a secret
the bruises of youth buries
up to my knees
in a row of...
west
(how blood is no foundation)
tomorrows odds,
how a mother is no mystery
God if you are so compassionate
be still,
I have many arrows to throw your way
illegible body scribble
a pulse the bones bend with
it is your day to day
whisper,
but I wont
then scream
after you,
I am after you.
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