It walks and talks and writes its name
Disappointment roams the earth
on six foot stilts
How do its words smell so
of rancid dogs and rotting fruits
that once bounced along to the
silky tune of laughter and now
scrape and crunch against the
graveled sound of snow salt and soot
Why do its eyes suddenly ring like
sour roe
an orange burst of inharmonious shame

I saw it as a floating lyre
plucking sweet sugar on my panting tongue
I stretched out like the tortured man
with water just out of read
stuck in a Roman hell
its music fell when I caught its eyes in my
padded grasp
My gentle stroke of melody

Its sweet sugar turned to rust
that coated my open mouth with bitter dissonance
It stung me so
and let my dripping wound so silent

I see it now
It comes my way with winged heels
To tell me what I long to feel?

I see its fluttered voice soar toward my soul
I am sorry too
I will sing it to your kiss