word for word pound for pound your name is the heaviest
of your foibles.
that the heart fails is no surprise, each thing has its end;
that you chose to fail mine is.
then to steal a dead woman’s self, you should be afraid
of the haunting but
we are all our choices, crags rounded by the water of time,
and I choose not to spend
purgatory hating you, but I can’t say the same for my gangrenous
tongue in your mouth wagging.
© 2021 Hal Y. Zhang