barmaid

.

you’ve got words on your hands

that you don’t show

you’ve got dreams in your hands

that you don’t know

there is something in your voice

that lures me out to see

something about the shape

you leave

in the space between voices

something after the shape

you cleave

in the waste between choices

and I am wrecked before reaching the reef

sails broken by breathlessness

barely able to hope for the relief

that I may float adrift

along a few waves more

condemned to cross the rift

removing me from shore

I should prefer to drown in meandering depths

hand-woven death shaped into a crown

You’ve got birds in your hands

that you keep close

You’ve got seams on your hands

that you still sew

there is something in that choice

some retruthed fallacy

I feel it in the steps you need

to breathe

in the race between choices

in these flowers of grape

you wreathe

in the taste between voices

and there I feel knighted holy

at the edge of the forecourt of a cathedral

revered in name only

by what power can dredge a bloody thread hall

see Lucifer recast

rebranded, rebooted

Ulysses to their mast

forever song-rooted

you’ve got slurred to your brands

and worlds begin to schtick

you’ve got thirds to understand

while ours begin to trick

the moment till daybreak

called to sunder the silence in the night

dream-burning gaze on sight

the moment when I wake

.


hello please thank you goodbye

I know these drank few would lie

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