This Game
Wednesday, April 26th, 2006The stones fall from your mouth like dough inside
My own and rise and rise until I’m filled
With lead that spills onto the groundâ€â€a pile
Of empty shells lay at my feet of glass.
It never starts this way – a kiss…hello…
“How was your day?� remains discarded food
Upon a plate now on the fork he plays
With food […]
