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the words
the dagger
touching deeply,
the words dropped
like stone upon a head,
pressing hard.
and then to turn around and see
what harm what done.
the ecstasy of the injury,
the success of simple sorrow,
hoping for the most
and attaining it.
sori.
the plant part expresses it.
"i did not mean to rain on you"
what is this thing that bothers me
about life and the living?
a single word
cannot but touch
the fleshy heart within.
these meaningless
attempts at communications
the wire has been broken.
oh, despair,
dagger
has
cut.
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