While In Hell
While in Hell
I notice the crimson blink of light
in the corner of my wine glass
and it reminds me of the million everyday mysteries
that litter this unlikely landscape
What am I
but a silly blink
of blackness trying on a body
the minute finger of an adolescent God
pointing at a mask
When will I
strike a ceasefire fire with the inevitable
let go of the shore and breathe water
like a lover breathes sweat
While in Hell
I pass the time with fallen angels
And the desert is as dry
as the moss is wet
