the burn never stops burning
the ache never stops aching
and when one part of the body dies
ten thousand bodies rise up to fall headlong into that cold hole
We think we’re alone
and sweet Jesus, we are
But what amazes me
even in the witch’s hour roll call
when the clock ticks like soldiers
and black is a cavern I look about owlishly
and the lungs stay asleep
though the brain is not
I know
someone is praying
and I watch her watching me
and that thread
eye to eye
is my undeserved salvation.
Sobriety Poet 