His naked form
in silent repose
glistened
with salt tears
The tiny tracks
of silken threads
splayed
across his chest
Arms held open
against the darkness
clinging
to torn ideals
Whoremonger
cries of despair
waiting
for tomorrow’s victim
He will come again
with coined pockets
jingling
to pay the piper
You come to me and take my hand
gazing furtively over your shoulder
the shadow whisperers that follow
are hidden in secret doorways
Brushing your lips on my brow
pensive furrowed mouth speaks
low and comforting words
of babble to my anxious ears
I love you tumbles out and drops
on concrete steps to shatter
and splatter a million drops
covering your expensive shoes
The deed is done in dark alleys
watched by shadow whisperers
overheard by black crows
that fly and squawk the truth
Ours is not the light of day
to linger in and be seen
by those whose tongues
would loose arrows that sting
The sun touches the sky
your hand releases mine
and you turn and walk away
wiping shoes on pressed trouser cuffs
GL Roberts Books 