Wordle #58 “April 26, 2015″

Week 58

Your orphaned tongue

Rummages my frayed nerves,

A raven plucking

The marbled lenses

Of a cumbersome benediction.

Whatever I have left

Does not warrant visitation.

I drink of your notebooks

The flickers of hiraeth,

A sentiment that all misfits

Endow whatever their proximity.

I weave courage from the scraps

Of your overheard prayers

As an old woman wrestles her

Memories into symmetrical swatches.

Laughter only exacerbates my fear

I watch while you endeavor

From behind a plaster wall

Invisible against transgression

Idle and decompressed

Closer to death than even

The Reaper supposes.