behind
the whorl of bone
colored full moons
most nights she is tossing and yearning
naively generating some damage around outside my window
she dreams of pillage with new indifference and needle point rapidity
she scratches out broken hearted tattoos
and my heart has such repetitive stress injury
her ink is translucent and puissant
it is one of her many strengths
her tides strand sea weed on the shore
or sometimes she sets it free
out to sea
out to sea
all in all it speeds up her intuition
like she is reading tea leaves
as if they were romance novels
a foreign quiet has settled on the marsh like a curtain that covers my view without excuse
whilst she finds someone else to amuse
whilst she finds someone else to abuse