Dead Husbands
Faucets leak another tomorrow,
pecking my shoulder with excuse
me's.
Always being asked directions to
streets never heard of.....
I choose silence over-
postscripts
bargains and
ordeals.
I embraced tributes to dying plants,future fatalities
with bruised Gardenias.
I should be dancing on fire but I forgot to
bring a date.
apart of me is walking down an ugly street where silence
is not permitted ,while the remainder part of me reminds
me......
that last times are first times gone bad.
meanwhile....windows wear the shirts of Dead Husbands.
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