If I Should Be so Fortunate to Find This Wanderer Again

Where Chance and Circumstance meet—
Where the willow does not weep—
There, under earth, those four words
Interred underneath where swords
Wed to soil tears your heart wept
On being pierced; there I’ve crept,
Toiling to upturn our hurt.

In the distance dusk creates
In an instant, dissonance:
Deafening defiance lays
Our sundown; playing parents,
My dirtied nails lay within
Opened ground our crown, saying:
Find this wanderer again.

Off the highway sauntering—
Off an artery’s back—skin
Shedding the world falls like skirts
From whores realizing their worth
And naked, I curse the thing,
Knowing how even Fame stings;
Digging, I bury our myth.

Married to its fist, once we
Married into this plot, we
Forgot its hit is the shot
Solitude mistakes for Love—
Attitude compensates; what
Else ’you need or want?
is what
You said, but I’ve had enough.