Alma

Sliver of moon
in a dark winter sky
Fingers trace
the outlines of my bones
tears down the walls
exposing
my yesterdays
living wounds bleeds
whenever salt penetrates.

Inarticulate cries
wrenched
when there is no mercy
with forgive me words
Quiet, quiet, quiet goes the song
in a tunnel
of strangled moans
from the ache
of I love you words
stuck
in my mouth
on the tip
of my tongue
I dare not
speak her name

The chalice
has been dry
for oh so long
not even a sip
to escape,
nor an answer
to unfold.

Have my bones
turned cold yet?
Has my skin
started to pale?

Having lived
in a common way
Forgotten on a shelf
in the back
of the closet
somewhere.
Yearnings so bottomless
it weakens.
In the presence
of she
who does not
carelessly end.
Shreds
my walls
mercilessly

What made her think
I had it in me to try?
Her languid woman’s song
in the place where there is no mercy
Where nothing is every too late
and the sound
in the back of my throat
is quiet, quiet, quiet.