Day: May 16, 2017
I am never far from tears.
They breed in lakes behind a dam
without a breeze-swept bridge to span.
The level rises till the tarn can stand
no longer calmly meekful as a mere;
but, bursting forth on unsuspicious friends,
she washes them, absolving them of fear.
I am now an open wound.
Like a fleshsome smile which never heals.
But that is just as it should be
or how could this man truly feel —
or be with wilting waxing worlds in tune?
and if the passion pus begins to ooze,
politely serve it with a silver spoon.