& someone to talk to.
having neither
i dropped down
into this alternate chamber
within myself
here
where light
& sound
trickle faintly
as into a well.
what's wrong?
ask the
various women
unlucky enough
to come into
my life.
i try to
explain
we dance around
the ineffable
their hearts
become
brittle
thread-worn
washing
down-river
like dust.
1 comment:
Thanks for the poem, Justin.
PG
Post a Comment