My love, never dissolved,
My pain, never absolved.
It drives me on
In this stormy sea
On a vessel of tomorrow
Where I drown the fishes that rise up,
Upon the land.
As the waters catch the sun’s mournful rays,
In the tide.
Nothing upon my hands,
By the red that covers the sands
Makes movement to recede to the air.
I am, in my torment, a great wash.
I never dry
My past eternities.
I never cook
Those fish in the pan
Long, to see them siphoned of merit,
Sucked out of their ampleness
Like the breast now without milk.
Leaves rip free
Before the branch can loosen them.
They tear upon the winds,
Though the season’s rain does not wither,
Does not dry
To the remnants of a heated summer.
I still bury the earth above my tears.
Woes and arrows,
Arrows and woes.
A notch to a door,
A dagger atop my roof.
A stranger that passes,
A face that never breaks.