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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