Who Steals My Grief

who steals my grief, steals nothing less.

the lesser grief of absolute, half-parched, half undelivered.

who steals my age, steals nothing more.

the nothing more than wrinkled skin on bones of incarnation;

who steals this rage, steals nothing else.

the nothing else no thief would keep, just borrow;

fake heart bleeds no survival once the treasured map walks upside down!

the upside down; the letters casting fish-hook to the tellers eye.

to see, hook-line-and-sink beyond no gift of light untangles,

the mangled mind of salmon wild in vultures throat of cancer;

what seas' are these where swims the stalking ghosts of horoscope?

this periscope of Gemini; lost in eyes to die with under candlelight of torture!

how quickly comes and goes sweet smells of summer.

how quickly winter comes and grows as only Mothers' do.

still i Father grief in halls deserted cries of child-locked screams.

imprisoned now in home of hacking draughts through windows chest,

who steals my grief steals nothing less,

the nothing less than aged thumps on bars too old to rust;

who steals my grief, steals nothing more,

the nothing more than sunlight on my winters grave;