she will not speak
of
clemency, the remnants of
your intentions have
clemency, the remnants of
your intentions have
clearly cut scars along
blue veins in her hands
blue veins in her hands
your poems still
sneak
through the stillness, late
into the evening, pages
through the stillness, late
into the evening, pages
of your
handwriting beg
for love, or some relief
for love, or some relief
with your shirt pressed
damp against her
back, she will see you
standing, waiting for
joy to swallow, or cleanse time
damp against her
back, she will see you
standing, waiting for
joy to swallow, or cleanse time
© 7.26.2017 heather brager