Those Perennial Things
the light-bulb bursts
darkness showers
an empty room
still, but for the motion
of a girl, her wrists tied,
her cries muted
a flower wilts.
It’s the First Day of Spring
and we’re burying you
rows of friends and family
mumble the Lord’s Prayer
like a zombie song
a strange weeping woman
at the back of the church
the wry smile on Mother’s face
beneath a black lace trellis
Love is a Friction Burn
we cling to a long length of rope
clockwork dolls, smiling dogs,
crazy girls with Pixie hair,
pulling ourselves skyward
towards the constellations,
paintings of naked Greeks,
and the greatest of beasts,
we cling to a long length of rope
swinging from the light side
to the dark side & back again,
a rotten heart at the end
of a piece of knotted twine,
we cling to a long length of rope
with fields of despair at our feet
& a dim sense of bliss above,
we cling to a long length of rope
too scared to let go
too tired to climb further,
with the laughter of perfection
yammering at our ears
