Wander
Copyright 2002 by Matt Gill

Wander, wander, wander while the night is turning dull
Poor acquittal for the sunken eyes
Poor refresher for a life’s demise
Palpitating treachery like crashing waves that lull
Me back to sleep.
Sleep.

Awake to find where my adulterous feet have taken me.
And the choir is singing to the buttress
A six-inch kneeler for my mattress
Every inch of me, has the temptress………
A ten-inch hole through which the priest perhaps can see.
And he absolves me.
And he pays my credit card,
Freeing space for more charges.
And more and more charges.

Blurred eyes melt with strain in that booth, while heaven’s deaf again.
Am I awake or do I numbly stagger
Am I alive or can I only swagger
Was it me, me who stabbed her?
Or was it cathartic when I saw you do it? Again, and again, and again.
Too late for your robes of red.
She’s already dead.

If a man can walk away from Bethesda
If mud can make blind eyes clean
Here’s a little mud between
Your legs, barely eighteen.
Take my seat by the pool, honorable Ezra.
I kept it warm with this hot…
Well, please just be what I am not


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