Saturday, March 29, 2014



I blew you in a graveyard
And the earth was a damp kneeler
In a cathedral of summer night

The dead were silent
No comment on such communion
But the whisper of a summer night

I learned to tongue
Teen dreams and slivered moonlight
Burned my eyes that summer night

I learned to fly
Sailing over the front porch with your fist
On another summer night

It seems to fit
That love remembered on a grave
Damp and twitchy on a summer night

Dead love amid the dead
And jeans mud stained and wet and sore
An aching jaw on both those summer nights

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