It was love and then
it was poetry
but it was poetry
that believed in love.
It was doubt and then
well, it was faith
but it was poetry
we worried the beads of.
It was death and then
- or before then?
in the actual face of—
in the deep pilings of—
fallen in the bagged old city
of—and then it was life,
savaged in the mouthings,
scraped in the garbage tin
of, ate in the holy
oh holy day of it was life
but it was poetry
we closed her lids with