His burnt humor, the hard and rusty edge that catches me,
(For I wait for it)
The bitterness
(Self-disparaging)
The mirthless laugh
(The eyes averted in pretense)
I pray:
Healing Balm, restore
Don’t hang onto the old anymore
This one-sided argument
Half and third with moons apart
And restless ego
Blanched Misunderstanding,
Except for such a lean-to frame,
that heroic jawline and glinting almond eyes
I’ll happily melt beside
Oh, but your mother
Wicker and unforgetting
A thin smile beckons and grasps
With hard edged demands
I cannot but call on the Name
Whose heart scrapes my intuition
Like a knife along a black bean pod
The Very musk of life released
In this petitioning
