Poetry Blogs (Died)

I woke from another nice nightmare,

the same one as last night:

calling in a midnight green garden,

sickening spilling envy over

the flower beds

and screaming through locked doors;

the keyhole beyond where

battleships flutter,

lopsided

in some old silent film.

Let me bring the colour to this

disease. Because 

I've brought it in fruitbowls,

and bouquets, and I...

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I've wondered at the pain inside
I've wondered at the choices
I wonder about the boy that died,
and why I never lost the voices.

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