Monday, June 15, 2015

kirchner's suicide, and mine, and yours




yrself beautiful in this
grey october sunlight and
everything i say distorted by fear



every wall
hung with a cross



the windows broken
or thick with dust
or looking out over
a million tiny bones



this woman in
the bathroom crying



this baby found
floating in the tub



an old story and that i
tell you i'm sorry
fifteen years too late



that i dream about
the accident
then wake up whole



visit the house
of my father's ashes



can remember
nothing about him
but his anger


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