“For I Have Sworn Thee Fair…”
I don’t want to think. I don’t want to see. Sleep’s deepest black is the sweetest part. Shock: a white river, that swirls, blasts and tumbles. Dashed up upon these shores; awake for now. I don’t want to understand this. To have my injuries unveiled. These truths rewrite a past that I hold to like a drowning man. Time is no help: an hour, a month, the broken back of a year. The torrent tosses yesterday, fresh, onto now. Better to look away. I am so weary. Feel it tug at my ankles, pulling me back. Rough mercy. Close my eyes — and hope for fairer shores.