lonely old man

by shira

decaying chairs at a table
yellow light on the back of your neck
broken glass in all your footsteps
last night you won, you won and you're happy now

keep your temper, wash the dishes
fill the cabinets with curses,
polish the hinges and swallow the key
make it quiet and clean and hidden
i'll buy you a haven if you answer my prayers

a crying sister on the phone
and lusting wives in all your rooms
you make a living and no loving
to any photograph or live brigade
too young or lovely or fastened to
the back of a truck
that could send you to hell

you're a bad man, you're
a memory
a voyeur and a dying priest
you burned all your bibles for a rose garden
and you sharpen the thorns with a blade
you give them to all the girls
who cook you dinner
or call you father