Backwords Fellow

Rented words offer no comfort¾

give them not to me unless you own them

you invest in them, you work their foundation

Give me your honesty¾what you’re unsure

of¾as winter sun slips behind rickety

wooden fences that that define my space

Cheap phrases you offer, each notoriously

bad day illustrates your catalogue of weapons

which I saw you escape to in your cowardice

I want only words bought with blood

and a symphony of sweat beading

at the furrowed brow¾the worked brow

Your artillery lies now at your feet,

your lonesome feet with toes

pointing inward¾feet backwards in shallow remorse:

em ettimid, apluc amixam aem, apluc aem, apluc aeM

(So, even in this¾my fault, my fault, my most grievous fault, let me be)