Waiting for the frost
To melt from the windows
But it’s only going to get colder
The world has never felt so fragile,
Like a creaking old staircase
Every footfall
Threatens to give way
To send helter-skelter
The living and loathing
Of bodies held together by thread
They tumble,
Collecting in their masses,
The corpses of dolls,
Childish refuse,
All awaiting the salvation
Of a pardon too long in coming
To still the gallows in its waltz
The cracked fingernail polish
Is a broken universe
The way the keratin admixes
With the sapphire night
Spills over into my autumnal day
Where the traces of dreams
Still blush with happy embarrassment
At the recollection
Of delicious improbabilities
Naughty secrets
Best kept to myself
A Poet's Life 