a frequency learned (relearned) lesson

 
for having loved

I am sicker now
but more holy,

                        less sacred.

the parts removed from
me

sit on the stoop of
an old brownstone

listening to the sky
  wheeze like a rusted
     out junker on its last legs

these ignorant tool
of words
                     insufficient
to express feelings
not yet invented

we swam like
    blind cave fish
       dumped into a
          furious ocean

threatening to consume
us like Cornus devouring
his god children

friends say to me,

"buddhakitty you always
    expect the worse in love."

well... does not the sun
always set

and the night always
arrives on
time?