Questions come like flies on a summer’s eve
To settle on me in plagues of glassy blue,
A loud tinnitus hum that will not leave
Despite every damned thing I try to do.
Do you think of me or not very much
Now? Do you worry that my love is spent?
Do you miss my face my hands my touch?
Are the things you say platitudes or meant?
I do not know. I only know they grow
In number, swarming black against my sky.
I arm myself with weapons, watch their flow
Unstoppable procession, who will die
First? Not my love, I know that’s true
I can’t swat it away easily. You?


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s