Poetry

In deep space―
I will not jump
off the ledge.

Blood waits―
to anoint your forehead
for a final call.

Memory crawls―
slithering, to feel
the sacred shroud.

Did you find
my footprints on the
rare altar?

Some days god weeps.
There was no need to sleep
like Buddha!

The spirit had
walked away from
ravaged frame.