iron blanket drawn
over graveyards shoulder,
time grizzles in the wind,
on haunches leaving flowers
new ones that repair the vase
to a certain brightness,
tattooed hand
pores darkened by labor
fingers stained by cigarette,
a tear would not fall
enough had shown at the time,
those fingers took a kiss
pressed it to headstone
no inhibition
despite the rumors that had become
a fiction contorted on nights breath,
driven within hours
in a landscape changing
mesh of community falling
into disrepair,
his longing had seen violence
memory carried weapons
and he could only think of
retribution,
slate wiped of all marks
that defined a normal history,
he still had a key
that room there own,
now cleansed and let to someone
else,
he visited sometimes
walking amongst others possessions
picturing his own
and her blood
scarring the walls