Everything lost is returned again in sorrow.
Love lays to rest in a dark glen of sorrow.
Handsome men study their faces in glass
temples I built, saying amen to sorrow.
My fingertips turn violet under cold water.
I read this as omen when I am in sorrow.
Tiger moth, peacock & devil’s butterfly
stunned behind plastic by children of sorrow.
I loved him all summer, each bright night but
woke alone one day, in a cold den of sorrow.
Is there no repose for the romantic heart?
Saffron ink bleeds from my pen of sorrow.
