by Nane Quartay

Sometimes I cry at night .
When the dawn fades
           My wet face dries.
Sounds of passion dying,
Heard between the lies.
Tear's translucent moment
Falling in a thin gray line.
A whisper in B flat.

Sometimes I cry in the morning
I see the noon on a stranger's face.
Ten o'clock there will be burning
Another soul for God to replace.

Sometimes I cry in the evening time
The ceiling bangs in rhythm sex.
Yells of joy mingle with the weeping of mine
The tears know the difference.

Sometimes I cry all day.
For the joy of it.
For the taste of it.
For the feel of it.
It washes me clean.

Sometimes by Nane Quartay

© Copyright 1999. All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be duplicated or copied without the expressed written consent of the author.

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