Numeric Mourning

Old pride boils over in coffee pots that sing endless dirges

Pour overs in the mess the first times we sang out in days undone

Carrying the weight of correction over and over exhausting young lungs

Faults cracking down the back of youthful spines

Telling tales as truths swing from the rafters of sweet sweet gaze

Dangling on ropes that have marked where we fell

Slow deaths in the romance of where we are

Distance hasn't given the rites a lasting glaze to marinate the possibilities where I would eventually love you

Weights given to adult children gifts from children long retired from self.

Fueling generational bonfires soulless and swift

Survival on the wits of friendless organics that lay awake in the endless exhale where life finally begins

Crisis always on the edge of summers where casts poured for a leg never broken but the rest of the vehicle lays littered among the yard.

No high like this

Bones bent bowed back to give you a kiss

Piourettes of controlled forgiveness that tops the cake you're saving for celebrations when you're welcomed back.

Red Slacks, and pitch forks that divide tongues so vague, and elusive the practical blames return to sender

Letter boxes overflow

The coffee stale from burning for the long haul

Ringing thru pure mornings of the long lost hopes of standing in triumph.

Wasted dimes calling collect in stormy weather

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Pass the test

Days new dawn

Drains calling