grace

to have tasted

all your words

the flatted threads

tapestry woven

in which i’ve wrapped myself

taken quarter

believing no storm could have touched me

touched us

she wishes for the strength

to collapse

rather

shoulders go back

the jaw squares

within some silences

live the voices of agony

imperceptible but for the autonomic failure

the heartbeat dropped

the breath diminished

fingertips rush to lips

eyes roll about searching for something

anything to stop the rain

they close

clouds gather outside promising thunder

she reaches for the familiar

lights a cigarette

straightens herself

her skirt

her thoughts

each i love you

slid down my willing throat

and to have tasted that music

she inhales deeply

she exhales slowly

there are other silences

which bear no life

she turns to him understanding his shoulders

the inherent symmetry

as only one halved can

he takes the chesterfield from her

draws without notice

the blood red reminder

of all which that is more viscous than

he breathes

and what of grace

the small smile emerges

there are still other silences

in which lives the sacrosanct

the ineffable

the dance which exists without reason

she slumps into her chair

considering sunflowers

not present enough

to hear herself say

what little i know of grace

is in the mercy extended

toward the undeserving

but to possess grace

one needs to  be merciful

toward one’s self

she shakes her head

fat chance

eh

the clouds oblige

striking a dissonant chord

laughing

maybe