4 a.m. and a ceiling's perspective
acquainted with restlessness
familiar with the silence of a coward
to oneself a dawn
release of pent sight down the long slip
of a day from the beginning
there is reason in questioning persistence
the reluctance of clarity
the inability to lay down
a life bare
a lie
flourished under the cover
of a stunted tree because
of desire misplaced and the fist
of a generation in which love is
punished as children hollowed
roaming hand in hand through a forest laced
in poison I can taste them both
the bitter resin and the berry
and will always
tell no one
the roof harbours
the blurred eyes of the sleepless
ceiling contemplated until perhaps
the shape
of one lost in the pebbles
a name
scattered braille on the beach chilled
fingers tracing verses across my back
and where have you gone my first
tenderness and the scent
of your skin pine needles
earth creek wet stones and
the concrete angel hallowed
on your knees with a kiss
upon your fingertips
