THREE HUNDRED SIXTY FIVE YEARS ALL

Three hundred sixty five years all
You neither sum nor lift in one day;
When there is no peace in soul,
No liqueurs will complete the way.

Already guests crowd in the tiers,
Unbidden, never ushered out;
Their noise annoy me hundred years
And two six five of years of doubts.

A wineglass capped with bread that calms,
A corner’s bound with mourning ribbon…
Punch and my Alex sit on palms
By trembling palms those toys are driven.

The window creaks within my loss,
A T shirt curtain tumbles down;
Across the heart frame stands the cross,
There where that loathsome spider’s found.

I’m starving! From the glass I steer
The bread and press it to my lips;
The pain unvoiced a hundred years
Falls from my brow — a single drip…

So long it hid between the folds,
Cold sweat, cold shame upon my skin…
Recalled I all: long scar within,
And heart that kissed scar's tender moulds.