Tuesday, December 1

‘ hold me’says I to
no-one at all - & the
waking so yes so happiness
is all have left I.
keep me in mind.
keep me sacredplease.
agonizing the branches
droop & for the leaves
to die, the me the we the I
- one the last left.
I am sorry to myself
that full spectre of her
is blooming fill me
for the patter of
gruesome deep black sorrow
walks to work &
nothing to do with her at all.
am I lost? am
I? lost? am I?
she won’t tell me;
as far-aways go, she left
me here to for myself fend.

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