Poem: Unseen Tears

Unseen Tears

 

can’t be scrubbed with what’s fresh,

or shed in church,

 

or unhitched from a loom of memory,

where they shuttle sure

 

as fate.

 

sad dimples swallow them,

tarnishing the eke

 

of on-the-edge irises.

 

they are jaded nutrients,

little packets of pump

 

in neck and forehead veins,

 

milligrams of heavy, heavy iron,

mined from brittle cheekbones

 

which tend to turn away,

chasing after the dark side

 

of the moon.

 

 

 

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