Aug 292011
 

   Beyond the bland suspension of a moment
       (still and queer and empty)
   We sip our tea and take our toast
        drained of life and envy.

   A drunken angel at a harpsichord
        suspends upon a cigarette
   Some tattooed prayer of the Lord,
        some blank mystery as yet.

   An opal in a teardrop
        confers what grief would keep;
   Purpure absolution drops
        in gutters at your feet.

   Starlight in a candle
        reddens the intruding hand,
   Restless on the icy mantle
        where Life makes no demands.

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