Hangman's Weaver

These hours of the month, of the night and dawn, it's only me and Mr. Christ whos' up and about, prying and creeping into edges and places where Adderley and the Rev. Coltrane only went in their own heyday.

Grand Central peered in, asking to borrow some thing, as a diversion, snapping away bits of her and my sex - palpable and questioned.

That, then, is why I said, "Stay: stay! Time will not repent or be bothered."

And so, relinquishing our hold on the ________, parting ways and saving the bombardier, we tuned our voices to the trees and made music out of the collective lamentation that echoed.