Drip, drip, drip -- trickles to the floor.
Speak softly, no one listens.
I cry for your blessing, entrapped by contingency.
(It hurts, it hurts)
I had not thought inclination had undone so many.
"Leave me," I scream, my face in my hands.
Shh, shh, shh.
But you are there
Intoxicating, suffocating -- destroy me
(It hurts, it hurts)
I still feel it.
Release me, Father Time
Whatever my lot.
My lips form the words.
A syllable -- two, three;
Comfort in consonance.
You have taught me to speak;
I will be silent.
(It hurts, it hurts)
Teach me poise or poignancy
Summer's last song, meadowlark defeated
I drift into submission.
Elegy, come softly.
I have come undone.









