Listening for mercy –
I place pebbles
along the labyrinth – smooth
in YOUR hand
against
the cutting nets
of trust
I am narrow
in the throat
Eyes clenched like fists
blackened bones rattle out
grief.
In the dream
I am a dead boat no sound
still waters
only the clamor
of time
the rasp
of dry hands
passing me to the next
destination, my face
burning
the wind
singing high a castrato.
I choose time.