rosemont rosemont

like a junkie needs his drug-
or a martyr, god,
concept undefineable,
sublime and intransient;
the metaphysics of love
scatters shattered at the question.

walking down rosemont,
sticking to shadows,
head down under fire-
fierce sun above
that would strip me bare of flesh and bone
seeking my essence,
transmuting it to ash.

walking down rosemont,
hurrying past the familiar-
that shop where he worked,
our restaurant.
one glance, just one-
probing the wound with my tongue,
and gasping in idiot surprise to find
the pain.

in violence he returned to me,
moments stolen from a life
not his to taste,
pregnant he came to me,
with griefs
too many to number.
slaking his sorrow
in rape,
slaughing off the old skin
calling it love.

i am dual faceted,
janus,
haunted by my sacred host,
spectres unkind,
and whispering.

grasping for an answer,
when i know,
there is no god for pharoh,
and i am the uncrowned,
walking down rosemont,
pretending nothing at all is wrong.