Homeless
Note the sighing of day's retreat,
color the grey blackness of night.
Drunken thievery, my feat
Of gleaming lights, beckoning frights-
to begin to stir in this sea
of a waning tumultuous falling.
Baptized with his promise to me
survival his only calling-
no white bursting of the stars,
in this sea of a fading fading grasp;
no redeeming god, no ark-
messed up with each other perhaps.
Copyright © Jennifer Cahill | Year Posted 2011
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