Still Cry

A quick one for Sarah;
I’m’a burn one, write one, take one more trip around the sun:
For Her whom I wouldn’t be Me without –
And maybe my name is blood on her tongue and tastes of iron, sweat, hemoglobin and metalloproteins;
Heaven knows our toil, I, of the sea // her, of the sky, our universe aborted, barely out of the pitri dish, which I pissed in
For I hurt her real early on;
Betrayed thee, sister of my soul, priestess to this Judas, whom I loved reading to
Beneath the cold moon in latelight – before the photons died, and I ceased to know her –
Oh, how I still cry inside, how I still climb into that rain-filled mud hole,
Still miss, still recall…
But I’m unable to look back for more than a moment into that atomic blast –
For this is the land of the singular moving horizon
The indivisble, all seeing-eye, which took us two to see through
“And I miss 2013 love songs” – she heard all, gave all, let me go, and lost nothing
Only time, honor, love, hopes, and the lost-revelry of wolf waldo and winnie lee’s habardashery –
A world, she lost a world
But not I, who still circulates, caught in the gravity of her genius, in the orbit of her unconsciousness –
Ffffaaaairydushht
The debt owed to the cost of her survival, in which I am sunk
Suspended in the Atlantis of a love that is now a rumor
I didn’t know her little thumb held the floodgates, I didn’t know – that she was the keeper
She, the keys, I the lock,
We the lighthouse

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