You did not come
I cried the whole night through
Such that my soaked mattress
Became a marsh
Sinking in the thought of you
Submerged and all surrounding
Body riven through with flame in
drowning
In the brackish, black undertow
Like a hot wash spinning
Sweat drops on my spine
Mustard tears on my cheeks
The thought of you sawing
On my stretched gut string.
You did not come
I cried the whole night through
Such that my soaked mattress
Became a marsh and I awoke
Surrounded by wading birds and heron.
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