Favilla and I (Part 3)

Prairieland

She lips a blasphemy to me
Plaster thick like moon blood
And between the wrinkles I hear
The beauty of our fall
Janus before the glow of waiting
How prized the jackal’s teeth
Favilla coiled round my tongue
Trembling without foundation
Prayer of the forgetful
Written to feed the crashing surf
My toes buried in clench
My back shepherding the wild
Outside the sun is edging
Humanity roars across the plains
Day divides the possible into
Palatable bits of turbulence
The ceiling circles above
Her dark hair a nest of torment
The faucet across the room is leaking
And I count its timely intrusions
As she lays her moist face upon
My scarred and beating chest
I look unto the flickering motel clock
Sad at how transient the static

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~ by ryantyrl on January 16, 2010.

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