I’ve forgiven you
for all the anger
I’ve never shown
though it has
split us in two already
like a lightning unnatural
creeping coldly blue through
a tree.
Soon to be barren,
I offer you one last leaf
bloody from my bitten tongue,
offer it all the same so
you can add it
to your laurels.
We are falling still onto
sheets as white
as submission.
My feet bound,
I enjoy myself
without volition,
a pleasure as nourishing as smoke.
In the ensuing haze
I find myself wishing one more time
that trust, with its wide wings,
had not tried to
make its frantic way
out of our tenements,
battered at every
wall, every false
opening.
My teeth chatter;
It is barely a whisper.
At some unknown
distance
a mournful
trumpet sounds
in my ear alone,
deathly slow.
I’m holding onto this
but silence is
its own battle and
I just know
this peace
cannot be good
for us.
