you’re cold, button up,

batten down the hatched glass

these mean talking ghosts offer

little anonymity to the  marrowfat

of shoulder high memories

 

sister in all but time

an “a star” in the morning

 

yet the many delights,

ours but for the cleansed eyes

and thighs, came as you sounded

memory in your truth’s thunder

 

blackened through evidence

guilty by my whence exchanged

I command the devil’s songs but

am I just faded delight?

 

“swing more” she demands, washed

guilty thrice through her heels

and laced heart and slumber now standing

in strength washed on a once

cracked spit drawn open mouthed

and verdict free

 

poured closer to the two hole cluster

the depth of a friendship must fight back

lyrically