I’ve been around
a time or two
and thought sometimes to leave
wrapped up in a blanket on the bed
desperate dispatch
of passions to survive –
to hold my hand
against a flaming torch

for consequence
is not my sort –
and right most never wrong
places still remember me this way
suffering a moment more
than ever should have been
let me go
before I beg to stay

once before
o no not then –
my soul to sacrifice
the truth was there
but hiding all the while
flush against the mantle
golden cross the grain
circling a moment –
a memory of your smile

shush the bitter
aftermath
of all you couldn’t say
dance me now
across a midnight floor
whisper to the curve
that is my longing come alive –
kiss the dying echo
of your name

. . .