And it is from my imperfection
That I turn love into foe in a day
It is the rage that sleeps in my belly
Like a beast ready to be awakened – even by a teasing hiss
Ready to be foresaken
Ready to be mistaken
For love in the dawn and at dusk foe once more
It is from my imperfection
That I wish to hug my scars tightly
And kiss my scabs to sleep
Stone you to bed,
My darkest knight
And sometimes still…
I can barely breathe long enough
To separate my dawn from dusk
Split my friend from foe
And how could I?
…Recognise when either of you had awakened to strike
Or awakened to stroke
this timeless horizon within myself
Of the next door neighbours called
Sheep and Wolf
