Thine Own Reckon Sword, Mister!
By Joe Dickinson
What is this sound?
Mad! Wait! I mean…
Oh, beauty!
Oh, sweet beauty!
Sweet angel sent to earth!
Help me! I cannot
Ever be with her!
She is too
Perfect!
Clock, clock,
You tick
Like the tombs
Underneath my eyes.
Break!
Break!
Hell with everything
And everyone!
Our silence
Is golden.
I don’t know you,
But I love you.
You are beautiful,
And you should know that –
I mean it…
On a soul level,
You are unlike anyone
I’ve ever known.
I hope that your beautiful smile
Smiles on
Forever…
Angel, angel, (so many other things, too).
Copyright 2007 Joe Dickinson