Poem For My Son

3 02 2010

the flute works because it is hollow like the pussy
and the heart only works by means of empty spaces
music works by virtue of silence

the space you left in my heart
allows it to beat a sad perpetual tattoo
a pulse of longing and remembrance.

the chambers are empty and wishing for you
you were a child then and void of experience
what is taken away is as blessed as what is given.

you were ripped from my loins
in a moment of lust and promise
the flute works only because it is hollow.




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