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Sunday:
Dark water draining north, the heat
Swells and bursts like slow tambourine
Glides onward toward the drew the line?
Who drew the line between you and me?
Who drew the line
that everyone sees?
Darling,
Lake Pontchartrain is haunted:
Bones without names, photographs framed in blood our veins are overpass frozen, fires ablaze at drew the line?
Who drew the line that cuts to the skin, buries me in?
Tell me who drew the don't close your as darkness of our lie if God is I believe you Pontchartrain will cradle me,
and all you left slow tambourine
is marching back through "Pontchartrain"
HATA BİLDİR
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