Under paralyzed years he saw nothing,
coughing up words
meant to slay her rejection,
"always" and "never" and "should"….

But time was his not to end
Thawing, emerged one day
from the suffocating tunnel,
bedraggled and naked hollowed out belly,
dried bat shit on his shoulder,
construction muscles now torn and
leggings ripped off, in order
to learn to dine with clean black frogs,
at the lips of a more naked stream
Now he warms with frogs
his hands search meaning in sparrow red wing,
needed by talons bent around his fingers,
Now he tries to straighten back
to soaring her bent legs,
closed against his furry chest,
bird's droppings on his back
reading the news now
in the swift tilting clouds.
He listens
at the prancing
stream's watchful voice,
for the borken stained glass of crushed guarantees of greatness,
and settles instead for its cooing.