in the lull after our fray
I wait for a sign
I'm ready for it now
the penitence already beginning
in the hollow sobbing
of the valleys and ravines
where you swept away my last
shred of pride
there are mountains with
still, peaceful air but not for me,
where, buried like Jonah in
a fish belly, I see myself
no longer the same, changed
from the supposed beloved to
the simply there
while your eyes of Belial
flutter twisted dreams
I would take from
your Satan's hoard
vials of morphine
to close up my throat
and find semblance of strange,
fitful sleep, but that
wouldn't be enough to force
shut the door which, on opening,
unfolds the altar awash
in my blood
I turn my ear to your profane
rasp breaking into my
dawn, feel the enormous
presence of these like me
in your wake, and the howl of
the wolf is mine...eloquent, silent,
Munch's Scream
--Jo VonBargen 2011
"POWERFUL" "I calculate if I can afford all those years in the slammer if I went ahead and made your day" YOUR THIN BONES Letters I Never Sent You - on Amazon http://www.amazon.com/dp/B005LKBR6A
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