By Shadygirl   ed4u@hotmail.com
Date: 22 September 1998

Your Cane

He ripped
my lips apart
with his stare

trembling mouth
and unsure
words remain idle.

LOVE persists
and his pupils burn with
obvious need.

I
habitually
pull away from his
O   U   T    S    T    R    E    T    C    H    E    D
hand
(remembering another's fist)

I ignore the undeserved
anguish I've caused
by
burying my face
into his neck, as deep as
the contours of his body will
allow.

You have to understand,
my 'hurt' has always been in 
FOCUS
I've always needed
one hand
on my cane.

I'm happy to let go of that now.

Now grab hold of me, baby.
I'll help you
walk
out of your 
past.