Jennifer Healy
I gather dry leaves
In the pockets of unattached wounds
Remorse is the flint
Of a presumptuous nostalgia
*
In the winter of requital
I hold the catatonic embryos
Of my former acquisitions
*
To whom do I chain this beast
This beast that lumbers within
The collapsible furnace
Of my indefensible heart?
mindlovemisery 