“The Edges Of What I Wanted” by Patrick Maloney

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I swear i held just what i wanted
to say at point-blank range.
When the shot got away,
i glanced at the page
and remembered my voice
was slit. Was it forgotten beauty
i just beheld that slipped

through my memory’s fingers
of dust, or the harbinger’s hands
of sand? There grew a darkening
along                                       the edges.
.           Today, you drew
an incendiary bouquet of blasphemy
from my lips, which i’d assume blew

out a mushroom cloud, shrouded
in bloom. Some moon soon drips
with this cold kiss.
A sickle dips against its shadow
in wax, a negative coming close.
A pool of soot falls from her
brow that light dances. Fear

disappears into eclipse
of the abyss. I’d flow now drops
still in the most stern silence.
How it must feel here
to be free of life as the inutile
piles its imperfectly crooked
smile where tomorrow skips

over
.                                             the edges

of sorrow with a sigh

-Patrick Maloney

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