noli_me_tangere: (death comes)
[personal profile] noli_me_tangere

Suddenly, all the rain is for you
 and there are compasses
    in the gutters,
gleaming as they point
   an inexorable north.  
Suddenly, the wind reminds me
 in no uncertain terms
   that the flow of history stops
on street corners
   in bar room mirrors,
 thick as honey and slow
with mercy
    it is written: you may lift up
 the edges of the minutes
   every once in a great while.

You may be more
   in an instant than in a lifetime
it says
  if you dare
to tread where some dirty angel

of time and place has led,
  lurking where the cigarette smoke is
 watching chance like a deal
       done with a slip of the wrist -

it will tell you that
 the price of things is getting too high
    To ask the wrong questions
        Or consult the charts
        Or lock up the valuables:
 memories,
  hesitations,
 hearts.

It was a collection of regrets
 and they were small
   and grew with space and absence
and turned a little bitter
 to the things not done
      to the beat of empty hearts
and the beliefs of fools.
 When it was done they shone
   -and I couldn’t hate them
        though I tried-
  for they were beautiful
   like the lies you told
     and the way you held
  what was more precious than you knew
  close under upturned pages
     warm as breathing
    in a cold bed
  soft as trusting
      in the vapid myth of love.

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noli_me_tangere

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