I
Like some old ram-
shackled stone house, am
Haunted
Not only by ghosts of a life once lived
Of people who I have loved and lost
But by a life I lack even the
Pluck to meet.
If only she would court me gently on softened steps so as
Not to spook me or send me running toward
Nightmares, and fantasies of
Needless sleep
I might love her
I might lay down beside her and
Welcome her into my body
But she is brusque
And loud
Inconsiderate and more and more inconsiderable
And I am growing impatient with her ways.
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