Sonnet 155
I’ve had a lot to give, always more give to offer
but the soft spot in my chest is slowly getting softer
wayside bullets weighed down in the revolver
every next shot—not going farther
I’ve had a lot of love that went off and disappeared
thrown into the wind, taken refuge in the clear
ears perked up for all the answers I could hear
but I haven’t heard nothin—for some years
I’ve had ten fingers, one soul, and ten toes
post-shower moments standing naked with no clothes
water dripping, goosebumps, warmth turning to cold
where are you?—I’m getting old
Breathe into the ground that you’re standing on now
let it be—don’t worry how