I still believe the devil exists that’s why I’m afraid of the dark even though
You had stretch marks from foldsAnd scratches from wearA delta of lines ran down the
She sits out all day in the flood of her tearsMourning herself and her childrenThe
Morning.All like the dews, glossy,Shines of beauty on the browsOf the earth;Beauty knows no bounds
You believed in nothingso it is truedead men do not die twiceyou maintained your spotin
Paint in her hair, arms splotchy with color,the girl swirls her brush in every color.
takes the moment of my mother’s smileher face growing into perfection &what made me think
iI could not love so completely.Inside of me were cities I never built, stories I
I Suppose I were to begin this poem by showing you someone, say a girl.
a child poses, behind a rifle,an eye closed in earnest prayer,though wars have taught himto