Bent Words

Bent Words

October 13, 2004

My pocket full of quarters hung
A pause to say hello
Ached my side and torture won
My face that would not show

Absent from the parked estate
I simply sat the same
Wondered at your haunting fate
My breath upon your name

Choked the living, lasting days
Curved about your lips
Poured the endless summer phrase
My questions you resist

Tangled 'round the good old lane
Cocked your head to one side
Forward still to calm the pain
My love from which you hide

Gestured, though, by the hand
Behind what you could see
Changed the layout of the land
My desperate melody

Made of what a moment shows
Unravelled and undone
Kept for all of life to know
My pocket full of quarters hung...


Written at 9:11 a.m.