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