a distant flickering

like looking through curtains

to see the flame of a candle, I could hear her

a woman’s voice rising and falling with passion

in a harmonious round with the falling rain

the pitter pat and scats calling out with the blues

dragging her mouth across the streets

steaming with streams of backed-up sewers

her lips gathering glass and gravel

she took it in and this bilge

billowed forth with the blues

a heavy sound laden with

the burden of an unrequited life

rising and falling she carried me too

through the story and I rode with her

my heart careening and crashing

full speed into crystal and china

chipping cracking splintering

gathering under my fingernails

glittering in my hair

my face dripping from tears cried

as I hear her lament

the rising and falling of the curtains

blowing in the breeze and the rain was poured

from rusty buckets of her blues

she sings to me so sweet

like succulent splooge that seeps from me

I lie on the floor soaked, tattered