A Secret, Not Forgotten
hands clenched,
behind a tide
of atonement-
barren skin drenched
with tales told inside
yesterday's moment
desultory sacrifices sing soft
as i weep beneath a willow
for this time of burring is oft’
the reason salt seeps my pillow
antiquated entrance to
purgatory-
nails bleeding on timber
for me
pulchritude of brilliance shines
not when subsiding does occur-
i crisscrossed all the crooked lines
my poor soul must always make sure…
rooms filled with
depth too deep;
blooms from roots,
too rotten-
for this secret,
i shall keep
until sorrow is forgotten
February 11, 2020
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