The Return

By
I return
to the pitch black house
to the house without words
to beds populated by the dead
I fall to my knees
to the cold wooden floor
to search, inquire, and weep
asking the rosaries
hanging from the beds
will the pain subdue?
By my window flys a blackbird
twelve black wings and an eye
and a tongue for each member of my family
He blinks, another dies
will the pain subdue?
To the house without words
belongs an angel of passion
his venomous sword quivering above my head
Please dont tease, please
just end my life
I search, inquire, and weep
asking the rosaries
hanging from the beds
will something good come?
come to a darkened broken home
If I burn will something good return?





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