There lies a glowing globe
with holes punched into
Eyes look through them
Eyes he remembers
He sits dwarfed
by
shadows of the dawdling sun
leaning backwards against the window
His head rocks back and forth
over the frame
where sits quivering under the dusky
skylight
his last stub
still burning
Burning like the hole by the side of his head
as blood runs down the side of
his lusty arms
The blood circles his feet for about an hour
before floating across them
across the floor
blackening
as it reaches the ashes of his children
still without promises
kept
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