back here

standing here bleeding,
my sad old face illuminated
by your taillights as you are leaving,
I must look pretty mournful as you go,
and I think that you ought to know,
even though I'm fading from your rearview:
my chest is still heaving,
so I have a little while yet to go
before the job is complete:
empty hands,
aching heart,
hollow soul,
standing in this hole,
with wet clay for feet.

February 5, 2009, for You, dammit.

Copyright © 2009, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

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