C’est la vie
So they sail away
Waving and winded
Their hair like
Unfinished stitches.
Inheriting our hands
Our bloodied history
Our layering of apology
Like noise upon snow.
Carpe diem, grab them,
Hold them. Hold them and sing.
Hold them the way you’d mean to
If you knew there was no mourning.
_
three updates and three book-ish developments
1) Just wanted to say Nu's not in trouble for the other night (and neither am I). At this point, letting me know where they're going...
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