Wainscoting
in the sad vacancy
of her eyes.
poison the sky,
the lost & lonely place
at the end of the world.
the sun was in
my eyes
I never saw her
final goodbye.
every hour is bitter.
she cries for something
she cries for anything
she cries for everything
but not for me.
never allegory nor wisdom
sullen and uncertain
her problems are manifold
wending light gutters
weft in the warp
of time.
she has no apostles
so...
one is solitary
two is temporary
three is abeyance
four is permanence
never atlas nor almanac
all zeros and ones
never voids or integers
she dreams of salt flats
a furrow of ash
elm, oak and ash
she will seek me
in the places I have left.
Wainscoting
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