Better Medicine

 Perhaps a train ride

Would make for better medicine

This sleeplessness

Is of a relentless kind.

 

Question: Do cracks speak?

At the yellow line you pause

Perhaps you were born in a hushed hour

In your bones the land throbs with loss

 

Outside, everything recedes

Inside, it’s fuzzy and royal blue

Mind the gap, they say

Or your thoughts will kill you

 

You see double in the window

It’s you, your eyes like stars

In this running black sky

Ink with which to write your scars

 

Maybe there’ll be roses

Dream pink, without thorns

Even as the light within you

swallows you

And you enter into the morn

 

Perhaps, perhaps these tracks

Will run faster than the words on your skin

If so,

It would make for far better medicine

Better medicine than this

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s