Sunday, October 17, 2010

You



You


Love, 
move aside, 
don’t try to walk 
over this grief 
barefooted.

I’ve laughed and cried 
too many times 
at the clock, 
a promiscuous
condition of Lazarus. 

Oh sweet genital grief—

You do not do, you do not do
Any more, black shoe

there is a dead man 
on my bed and 
it looks like

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