So the moonlight doesn’t hold its shine
dazing in the withered bellows of tenements
Slips past the window and all is
As the strays lap up what is slowly draining hope
The fire escape to be used only for the hangings…
Hangings of sins
Heh, several dangling from the clotheslines of neighbors
Never taken down one,
Since two take up new residence each day.
And the streets are littered with the glass…
Glass of broken saint’s sorrow,
But then maybe tomorrow the
Will come out a cleanse our minds of the heretics
Hark, I hear the ambulance sirens singing for
just one more soldier to achieve misguided salvation.
Just across the window, moaning with delight
A Virgin Mary room occupant gripping wildly
At the cold, listless windows.
Her cage is her own life sentence smeared across the
Whispering yells of silent content in the hollow of the room
Her air turns to blissful lust and seep through…
Through to my wishes of…
The pleasures, I only whisper back,
“We could be together on these empty streets.”
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