We who pant and part in night's divine design Lard the stars with tissues of our lies Spitting hymns and oaths of "evermore" Till all darks daunt or are blindly malign-- 5 Full of the guilts we spritzed at the skies, Chanting fabrications by the score. Will you sit a little while beside me Anyway? Put your hand into my lap, Let me have my way? A little while beside me 10 Lay, and a little love let dribble in our laps. Lie with me a little while, tell a fib To the fibulating stars that hear our hearts; Its not as if they weren't used to our raw squibs, Or its worse than what we told ourselves to start.
From the collection "Supposing Roses"
Written by Gregg Glory [Gregg G. Brown]
More information available on gregglory.com.