Oct 16 2017

Regret is an Opera With No Audience

You there in the corner of the forest–
These are the words of moss covered stones.

Remember when the canopy was where you started?
When thermal updrafts created a prey of space

for you to fall upon,
feasting and fasting at once?

Don’t you know that regret
is an opera with no audience?

A banquet of one is still a banquet.
Thieves will always dine with you,

glow midnight blue
in the shadow-doubt,

then they’ll honey the gears, and complicate a simple plan
with the machinations of stars in combat.

Your implosion is a darkness hidden, sucking.
Desire is the branch which snares a fool’s heart,

in a hunter’s chest
a pig’s can easily replace its beating.

 

originally published in Badlands

 

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