Theoria 9



Eyes: flickering, intense
sunk in dark shadows

jet black on white
glistening, clean:

where are the words
to walk

in the cheek's
angular, lilting valleys

where are the hands
to gather the signs

of the sorrow which dropped,
glistening, on your skin?

Gather me up
in the night of your suffering

nearly the shadows
parted

nearly my hand
stroked warm tears of grief

from the cheeks
of your broken dream.