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