Remnants

This is my own tragedy
This telepresence, of sorts
I, loving you

Self-created, for my imagination is that of a girl reading far too many fanciful tales of interplanetary affection and of camel-led caravans of the Orient
The dust of this all still surrounds me

Something I alone permit
Against God’s will,
I believe in you

Edge of the Bed

Listen to breathing and birds
Or 
Or
Sit frozen staring

One with this psyche
No choice
No choice
The dark tunnel

Unwanted corners, irrational speed 
Walk ’round 
Run down
A motherless child brings me home