brittle bones

9.22.21

10.34am

.

.

.

✽

❅

❆

.

I Am Too Scared

To Open

The Pages, For Fear

That The Pages

May Break,

.

The Pages

Are Brown and Brittle,

Fragile-

Just Like

My Own Skin.

.

The Shattered Diamonds

That Fall as Tears

Down My Face

Fall Quick and Fast

And Without Haste,

.

Again-

I Have Turned

Into My Own

Martyr,

.

✽

❅

❆

.

I Hold

Richard Milazzo’s

“Green Nights; Golgotha; Love’s Quarrel”

And

Walt Whitman’s

“Leaves Of Grass”

Side

By

Side,

So That

They May Speak

To

One Another.

.

✽

❅

❆

.

If Only

You Were There

to Hear

the Chatter, I

Wonder What

Their Banter

Sounded

Like.

.

✽

❅

❆

.

What If They

Were Discussing

All

the Ruins

of My Rubble?

__

Khat