Poezja

Tonight 
the nectar will be spread 
to tame a random tormentor. 
 
Black and white, 
I never saw my father weeping. 
Lonely he was. 
 
I am 
my own creation today 
weather beaten. Confession to - 
 
confession, unread. When the- 
storm was tethered, 
there was flooding and neck deep- 
 
you were in tears. Am cannibalizing 
my own poems, to write a new line. 
It was a midnight moon.