Dickinson of soldiers
nor of wars
not defeat but fatigue
are the undertakers commissions steady?
Have we taxed the graveyards too lightly?
Is grief now an unworthy marker
obits insist
but we wear our musician hats
& dance with the woman
with the loose sash
thrown in with the stricken
we are whores for the day
until the sash is flown open
by students of a deeper depravity
the newly diagnosed stand apart
with their embittered Wednesdays
abandoned 2pm trysts
unclaimed nights stolen from unwitting spouses
just as you stepped
nude. crisply shimmering with desire
devalued your currency
shagged the day with speeded-up clocks
the din of your own climaxes foregone
& brewed with the same drink
used to prime yourself for easy foreplay
what remains
is the bargaining for mercy
cruel memories of borderless fuck
heard over the jingle of keys in the lock
19 September 2011