le morte

Your left hand grows stronger
from emptying the fullness of yourself.
Ambidexerity is born of loneliness,
Necessity the stillborn of intention.
What we could have made
is lost to ennui and entropy.
Illumined panes cast
Kinkade illusions,
Much to be desired,
little to be attained,
Match girl fantasies flicker out.
There are a finite number
of chances to love before
the phosphorus scrapes from
the matchhead and we are left
in the cold with the stale
smell of sulphur
and abortive romance.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s