Poems from WolF
You,
time,
are the picture
of immortality.
As endless as the heat
of a Chicago summer night,
You
are never moving,
always stopping.
Faster...
It’s cold,
freezing in fact,
and like an idiot,
I am outside.
Jogging.
My toes are gone,
stolen by frost,
my cheeks burn
with the sting of...
For you.
For me.
For the roses,
long forgotten,
that lie dead
somewhere.
For those lies that fall
from tainted lips.
For the loss of self...
Yesterday
I trailed the others
around the park,
you clasping my hand
in both of yours,
hard,
as if
I were Jack
and you my Rose.
You shook,...