Nails and Silver

I saw her reflection
in your stained-glass eyes.
You fractured eternal 
before midnight arrived.

Last one’s invited,
first one’s thrown away.
As we ride these red-coal highways— 
Who redeems us today?

We didn’t lose enough to regret. 
Didn’t miss enough to want more.
Let’s turn on the dark
so we can even the score.

No body, No choice.
As she lay in the street— 
Her twinkle is gone.
Her spark un-lit.

She’ll never belong…

 
Not to herself.
Not to her kin.
Nor her pineal whispering,
“What did I miss?”

“Was it something I said?” 
“Did I do something wrong?” 
Twelve to witness.
Twelve to watch.
Twelve obsequious—

Another woman lost!

(“A stranger walked into a tavern…”)

(“He hands the innkeeper three nail’s, and he asks…”) 

(“Can you put me up for the night?”)

When fires ignite—
where is the deliverer? 
To weigh judgment 
and ferry us upriver?

When infernos rage— 
Where is the deliverer? 
We feel the heat.
Raise a toast, all sinners.

We didn’t bleed-through
-to regret.
Didn’t hunger enough 
to beg more.
Can I fast your evil 
without vomiting my core?

After you—
the flood.
Still we whisper your name 
in a breach of doubt.
And in the shadow of blame.

When infernos rage— 
Where is the deliverer? 
He paid Kharon
Three nails and silver.