Sunday, December 6, 2015

For Jane

By Charles Bukowski

225 days under grass 
and you know more than I. 
they have long taken your blood, 
you are a dry stick in a basket. 
is this how it works? 
in this room 
the hours of love 
still make shadows. 

when you left 
you took almost 
everything. 
I kneel in the nights 
before tigers 
that will not let me be. 

what you were 
will not happen again. 
the tigers have found me 
and I do not care.

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