The drinker
I used to drink the shadow
like a poisoner
sipping, sipping at the bitter well
until my blood ran cool
and full of thorns
saved up for lovers
who would want to seek the truth of me
I'd take the long way 'round
through alleys full of alternating
beauty and decay
to force myself to see the edge of that abyss
that ate the last remaining star
from mornings in the desert sky
I was addicted to that dance,
to drifting in the grey
of restless sleep,
lulled by the murmur
of a figure
sweet and fleeting in the periphery
of day
And you'd be there
in the dark of the dream
your pale face startling in the void
gathering the silence to you
in a colorless bouquet
Now I am learning
to drink a different color
I am done with wells of shade
and waking with the prick of thorns
against my throat
so I am gathering my truths beneath a stone
to show you
should you knock
3
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