Needle & Thread
The Glue That Binds Us

Charred sentiment dispensed
The remains of our days,
Spent: cleaved away
As leaves torn of paper.

Distant memories engaged
The feeble free fall
End over end;
Tumbled as pigeons
Latched together
With arms open.
We headed towards
Eliot’s perpetual April;
Never gave thought
To the tire of love.
Youth’s newness, blind elation
Staved off the wolves of reality.
Salt of the earth
Took leave, our loss;
We pushed the pieces forward.

Soiled uniforms
Dressed in suits of grace,
Cumbersome and too large,
We traced our paths
Again and again;
With dogged determination
We dragged ourselves
Through foot worn ruts.
In the end, we realized
There would be no phoenix
To rise from the ash.

“It may have been in pieces, but I gave you the best of me.”
― Jim Morrison

Zarephath
Tankas

I
Living on the edge
Of your warm breath’s precipice
Right before the sigh
Invisible, relentless
Traveling on the exhale

II
Counting the seconds
Of a beating crimson heart
Hallow muttering
Muttering and muttering
Resounding, lub dub, lub dub

III
Still — its sound unheard
Rhythm undetectable
Under the plectrum
Plucking the harpsichord strings
Beneath the Venetian lid

IV
Of cornflower eyes
Sick with tears, leftover fears
Trained myself to walk
Instep with cinnabar coals
On my tippy-tippy-toes

V
Rested a moment
Consumed the red temptation
Slept beautifully
Waited for resurrection
From a nine-inch nail slumber

VI
Woke to find myself
Stained: in a worn flaxseed shroud
Handfuls of spent soil
Pushed aside, while digging out
So I could stay on the edge

“I wake abruptly, my breath jagged and heart racing, my mouth stale, and I know immediately that’s it. I’m awake. The more I want to be oblivious, the less I can be. Life and light will not let me be.”
― Paula Hawkins, The Girl on the Train *

The Kills — “The Last Goodbye”