nashville blues (for B.)

sunday barely rose
on the sleepers
crumpled, faded leaves
on the threshold of morning
stirring under the gaze of Freya,
six swaying wisps of ether

time is relative
and place is of
no consequence

without a guiding
light in the zenith,
without hope to regain
sweet anticipation
of meeting your god

i miss the certainty
on life’s fringes,
when i still believed

last night’s pretty girls
have gone home

we stake our fears
on the new day
where strangers slay
unborn truth
by repeating
scenes of
faded worship

time was always free!
she slipped past our plans
and left me only
with blisters
from dancing

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Unholy Imaginings Copyright © by Kat Karney. All Rights Reserved.

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