needing to relax
crying in the back
motionless even when they come
even when you come
i feel words coming out

but i just nod, okay
makes me sob harder

what's wrong?
not the sins of my father
but my own and you

you
you

"take the big king down"
family, friend, lovers?

where did the message get scrambled
silently a tear bled down my cheek

like a scraped floor
pooling across my lips, new river valley

i weep white snow across the cushions
foot tapping mine
maddening i see her approach

not just one but two
uselessly i croaked alone that night
"that's not how my season has begun
i did not mean quite those words"
not her, but you
not him
not her

you

i'm shoving through the useless shells of people
spent cartridges, corn-husks asking me

the dumbest question i've ever heard

i need my strength to fight habitual intoxication
self-destructive calm, closed and sleeping like
the dead gum-trees by the lake

as a lone whippoorwill, god of the night
flies duskily over the gloaming pond
furiously crying its omen to any frog
that does not wish to be a moon

nothing constant
but everything is still the same
what has changed of my feeble love?
dying like the last glint of frost on
the flag of spring

i skipped like a song you didn't want to hear
and stumbled out of the room like a fool

ringing in my ears,
what's wrong?
i still might be.

05/23/2007

Posted on 05/24/2007
Copyright © 2025 Corey Lockaby