with a slow kiss,

from the sick lips

of Fate,

Time's Californian mistress,

who stands

unblinking,

not screaming,

not feeling

the fear that has

these feet of mine

shaking so hard,

ten toes are in

the grave.

with a slow kiss

from the sick lips

of Fate,

i break away and fall,

feet first,

and somewhere,

not all that far from here,

the sun split the clouds

for the first time

all day.