honest poem

a woman died down the end of my road

murdered
they found her body
chopped
into a ghost mosaic
a poem too honest
to weep over
 
it is too late for anyone
who loved her

it is too late for me and the
empty space
you slipped inside
the one door
I did not remember to lock

you are my collapsed vein junk needle
speeding car to my sparrow chest
dark night crawling through my window
armed and deadly dangerous

I read your face like gypsy palms
constellations my newspaper headline
waking from the nightmare
I read aloud
man found dead
no more body counts
in the road tire tracks
speckled fawns slaughtered pigs
gutting lungs 'till your fingers bleed
just to feed the wolf

I don’t know what length will taste like courage
what strength will cut the veins
violence to wash the lambs from my sheets
bourbon to take your taste from my mouth

It is already too late
for me
to love you
weeping
a poem too honest
to write