The Nacreous Oughts

07 April 2009


Slow exploringfeasting, by only the light of our hunger...
Again, we forge an unbearable will to return.
It seems like the only place, while it lasts.

But at 4 a.m. i grope on the floor for my clothes.
My hands still feel only a yielding of skin
as i plunge into the icy black, trembling.

This is the real world, stark empty & still
with only the movement of the stoplight's eyes
& a few suspicious solitary drivers.
I bear a mirage, a shimmer on all my senses

that is like a promise, & like a betrayal
of all those broken tonight on the stone battlefield.
I creep into my other bed at last
& lie awake watching the red digits change.


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