Recaptured sparks of city light would haunt me,
Hurt me, Hand my hands to my eyes and burn the palms,
Drown the palms, return their mermaid memories to
Solid, swollen, swallowed life. Wallowed in pity,
Deep canyon, pity, river slithering down,
Old as the city and older than memory,
Cold as the city and colder than frailty,
Makes its mark in the universe, makes its waves.
Recaptured, restrained, regarded as insane,
I thought it over in a crater in the field.
Exasperated and overrated, clever,
I determined, swore oaths: Never will I yield.
Did your mothers tell you where a demon's dreams
Will take his life when or if they all come true?
The Milky Way is not a road, stretching out in
Magic concrete, sparkle bricks and gingerbread;
Remembered comments, tightrope stretched across Styx,
Scrambled barbs of poison blurbs and ragged fly wings
Gleaming, sickly sweet, cloying drunken angel's bleat,
Solid, foiled, broken. This life would haunt me.
These lights would always haunt me.