Monday, September 14, 2009

when we talked truth to his arrogance, and love to his vacant heart

wasn't there a certain elegiac grace
in our halting voices, telling out our truths?
a room full of precious many-colored birds
of the same sacramental spirit...?

just so, love's bounty was slain by fear this night

spirit linger
until no sky is left that doesn't mourn the light
until nothing comes but the comforter's voice
to wash off the stink of my disbelief

and, replenished, to love wastefully the vacant heart

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