Curse me
I want to eye words
Like beautiful blackest birds
Dyed from the mouth I worship
I want to hear you
And the dirty old man
Trip over the same terrain
To acknowledge the demon
That I am
I want you to break me
With the language of angry.

But no lightning flickers in your faraway eyes
No comment nightcrawls from your closed lips
So familiar
You lie innocent as a felled tree
And I watch the curtain fall between us
At the end of the scene
You refuse to make
Applause all around

. . .

copyright 2000, Linford Detweiler