“Ode to Linger”

Berlin nights a watered bridge

still under church’s wolfs

bane remedy cure the

spark underneath a watered

bridge its occupants dressed

so overtly you’d think you

would of noticed them

a long time ago before

your eyelids painted hell

above your bed

where he scratched his

likeness with his tongue

over that watered, creaking

bridge and the light

found no solitude in what

it gave thee dead beauty

atop an almond vendor’s hat

traverse the watered bridge

with a purple orchid stuck

the belladonna stripped

under a black, Berlin sky.

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