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Saturday, December 15, 2012


it's 7:08 and I smell like pancakes and weed and french fry grease.
No words. I have no tongue to speak them.
It will be a convenient winter, splitting up problems where they lay
and tossing ourselves into a blanket of white.
forever has come sooner than never had thought
and now tis time to pay for our crimes.
high noon we come to you: wrapped in edges of muslin from the curtains
prayers still on our lips, eyebrows drawn
whisper to us, reedeem us
I never thought to wonder where my will to speak had gone
until something rolled me into a corner and let me scream.

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