sunlight fades like
a failed prophecy
angled against dark
guilty
as a penitent behind
the confessional lattice
the splintered dusk
seeps through
dirty windows
and dwindles into
some rusty solitude
of broken chairs
and undusted mirror
in the living room,
he slams an empty beer bottle
on the table with an ashtray
overflowing with endings
the tv dinner
withers within
muted whys
everything is dry,
juiceless as a nun
but somewhere among
rat tracks on the floor
and fat cracks on the wall
the credit card statements
and unreturned calls
Scarlet is
stranded
in a noiseless sacrament
Gold trophy winner
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