Helicopter in range,
the whump, whump of its rotor blade,
inches from the sunning skyscraper.

You kneel at the bed,
With pursed lips,
Like a child listening
At the edge of woods.

Abel and Lucy sitting in a tree.
F-U-C-K-I-N-G

What happens
In old age
Is that you get
The bullshit
Shaken
Out of you

She never knew she wanted her earlobe
licked until your tongue traced
a line up her auricle, and you
took away the word No
from her with your breath,

Tam. Death. Tragedy.

Four exposed – to squalor, to violence, to home.

Hunger. Shattered glass. A single mattress.

Your whisper in the night, is a hush upon the wind,
your prayer lips mouthing out the words.
You want to know just what it is,
the other side of life.