---Michael Acklin   

Twenty-Eight

Covered all over with luck and lust,
Dusty as the roads from here to each selected nowhere,
here we came and nested, molted,
bolted doors behind us
so no contract dog might find us,
bind us off to  boredom's sleepy, sad indifference.

Life and living fought for our attention,
mention one and feel the hot breath,
Death, presenting for amusement all our sorrow,
borrows time to show us
just what trap the Other's laid.
While unforgiving song may catch the life,
it can not support the living.

Nothing evil lies in wait, nor good in hiding.
Riding out like errant knights is only wasteful.
Nothing tasteful ever came from love and language.

(c)2008 by M. Acklin