Count the faces and the ways                   Dear Love
In which we loved badly
And might have otherwise
I require minor repairs

In every season             It is summer
A hundred and sixty of them stare over my shoulder
The cockroach-ridden shack where she did me in
Ruin it with a simple shot or two

That woman last year beaten in Little Rock, nearby
Those people in Binghamton
Dying of not speaking
Everything I’ve ever done wrong

Once I lived in a word                 and would still had you not

Brian Clements |  > > > > >
Contents | Mudlark No. 49 (2013)