118: Étoile

On a platter...
Truth serum lies
Low inside
Mouth open wide
Turns decide
Pretend to hear fuzz; dimly scattered lights
Take our fill, bodies numb still
Heard those words -- THOSE Those words --


Steps taken: downstairs. Exhuming what was once tired
Lemon's light, bitter stage, applause but a faint assumption
Sinking farther from the rest, floating above the dialogue. . .
(Swallowing my words, and burying them too
Dismantling thoughts to its abstract core,
All skeleton l e t t e r s
Soulless l e
t t
e r s
Cremating ideas, and the final rinse washes away its transgressions)
And all was lucid, lead-footed,
Grin, my dear, and think nothing of it. The evenings of our days
straddle the youth of our nights, and let's walk away tight-lipped
Grit my teeth as the pavement grinds between my feet.
I can hear the echoes, now and again, glass fractures like words
Spilling to the floor and into my ears. Will never forget Those sounds.

Cliffs