come to me in a dream deep in the night
come to me a ghost flickering by candlelight
come to me in any color you choose to be
just not that memory
come to me with your dark Appalachian eyes
come to me hiding behind a torn disguise
come to me with your painful honesty
just not that memory
(in perfume rain of louring mist
quiescent gray or slivers that pierce
the end of day, bleeding
upon the edge)
come to me the joy of a glorious death
come to me a word of truth in every breath
come to me on a cross to set the world free
just not that memory
michael mcguirt
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