Who can tell the time
from beneath these clamoring
telephone wires?Surely not our former teachers
kneading wax onto rope
carefully pulling knots.I was a plastic tv doll in a dream.
I was a working human being.
Death is a patient lover,
Always appearing on the cusp of sleep.
What is peace but unobtrusive fodder? A grave mistake.
Yesterday we walked on sand,
Today? Trails of dust.
Would the night drag on
When accompanied by your faltering voice?
