Innocence is a better world, but I Can hardly imagine the Lord keeps No count against me. I was bent double over My riddle days, wracked and walking The years of my life backward. Lives I thought I’d lost honeycombed And hunched down like winter bees Eating my heart's honey. I shuddered long, stuttering prayers That never gathered to a point, And left me still as full of secrets As a wet bag of blood. Your burning palm pressed me down. I sizzled and blackened.
Your poems are always so exquisite - it’s as if they expand the universe with words. Beautifully done.
Impressive.