Stand in for more important things,
The real wounds covered and salved
That never find articulation,
That never find articulation,
Just a lancet to distribute
The broken bread of pain.
Your clarification is plain how I am wrong,
But an army of innuendo comes dancing along
Like wine unstoppered after a hundred years,
The stuffed down juice become a stark
Acerbic bitterness your tongue can judge to a distance
With the other things we still have never discussed,
That never needed to exist, for which the air at least
Insists on an apology.
That never needed to exist, for which the air at least
Insists on an apology.
But the chord your words recall
Suspends with a gasp in my craw
To a quivering silence, where the truth would
Reach out in reply
To the words that leap like inebriating rockets
For a moment's disposable ash
Just to drown out the hiss of a fuse
That continues its inexorable course
As coldly as planets turn
In the calm, exploding universe.
In the calm, exploding universe.
