Wednesday, July 7, 2010

Bl. Roger Dickenson

the wasps swarm

around the gallows

as if there is something sweet

dripping from the noose.

I looked into their eyes

and they were changed.

this is the way to unlock

the door. this is the way

to lumber home, my heart

in my hands.

I looked my life

square in the eyes

and refused to let it

plead its case.

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