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Fever fever
It is late, and I hear the tap of
women's high heeled shoes
They rap somewhere in the darkness
A faint shreek of laughter cracks my
glass of wine
I listen too sharply
I am waiting for you to come home
though you never really will
a sweeping hand has caught you and
lays you in a grave
My lips, are in the pillow.
and I have gotten so very old.
I cant begin to tell you what I have been through
what I have seen
or the sweat that cripples me in the night
the dreams that punch me awake,
so sour that the sweet escapes me
