
Not for me this time,
but forgive me, my naivete–
the sky weeps each night
at the end of the day, because
such precious stories,
such failures,
such remorse.
My God.
My God.
Your appetite for this
makes me take a pause,
and wonder..
I’ve been to the moon and back.
I would not wish that
on my enemies children.
What exactly are we doing here?