Monday, April 22, 2013

No Time for Mortal Love III



She began talking with weight;
her tongue heavy
as the burdens she tried to hold
off of me for a few hours. In a gift
of irony she talked
about burdens of love
like they meant nothing to her.
Burdens lubricated
by Irish rye and violent pride.
Burdens personified in me
like I meant everything to her.

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