fallen alms

The words stir the skin, the bitter bite, the honeyed lips. Love letters and tender litany, the stormy romance rolls on by. Some fresh press of acrimony, some lustful tussle with your dreams. No next act, no further purchase. Hard stops and clipped diction. The substitutions that will soon replace me. Oblivion only an edit away.

My name has worn out, it grows stranger by the day. One day the words turn a corner. One day there’s a breath you can’t catch. The little nest of wishes that I carry empty, bare but for the thorns. A spray of stenciled stars, and a mind like a dying climate. Huddled in these bones and consequences, the grade climbs on and on. The prayer unfurls in smoke and ash.

I tire of the haberdasher and the architect. The smoke and the signal, the unburdening of the bones. The moon in my memory, the words on your lips. This place that resonates. This wished for world.