To have sovereignty?
Does every king have to die?
Every need have to bleed?
The heaven that is our steady state
Only shows when you enter the room --
If you see the velvet rope
Don't expect it to unsnap
For it is only there to keep you
From what you are, so you may,
If not know it, at least sense
Its presence in grief.
The thought of trumpets chewing
On the scenery is better anyway
Than the rote, note-by-note repetition
Of how you got to where you began.
The play of time unwinds again,
So it can zip back up.
That bruised lip, saying nothing,
Says enough.
