Q u i d a m

Pledged

Tired! Yes, clouds audibly windshield wipers

from sprees or sheets, weep or sweep

She clenches her jaw, look for out in the window

Breeze, used to blow shadows and now only stays

to forgo.

An odour grasp the nostrils, breathing—

Prickles pinch in the neck below, spines cordless

cracked up, a bone crushing hug

then there's nothing.

She tries to touch base, maybe for hush whispered

only an eruption sigh! Scattered with scribbles.

"I— please, let me have it— for once maybe. . ."

she pleaded, only to hung upon on the bloody

roses, Oh! See, how the glasses manifest

plain jars.

She lowers her head, slowly tips the nose of articulated

face, a gleam of murmuring music;

kisses with sorrowful mysteries.

Curt nods, everyone's left — she's in the dark,

rocking chair, swaying right to left

beckoning forward, a dark secret that buried words

in her painful breast, she cradles it on mourning night.

— 05/04/2023