Waking Grace

I woke to an auto roar, The spit of sunbeams filtered dirt, The catcalls at the door, The grace of love and hurt. I breathed out the flak of dreams, The exhaled death of life askew, The caterwaul of distant screams, The grace of one so true. I spoke of her ruling day, The whispers at her lissom spine, The lips that brushed her vertebrae, The grace of me and mine. I broke like a snapping nail, The feelings to her gravitate, The lustre of my arms fell pale, The grace of sex and fate. I shed but a single tear, The reckoning of all I need, The idol held so fast and near, The grace of why I bleed.