until falls
the final drop
of liquid good
when its barrel
lay broken
and ink leaves
a dry
indelibly
delivered lesson
for future
story
foretold
when no longer
may i scratch
this empty metal
cartridge
across my desk
in search of any
form of
formal imprint
when pin
pricked
fingers
no longer lead
the ledger
to a level of
legible english
let my life
be a supple
formation
of a simple
letter S
be it
remembered of me
certain
that when the
full measure
of my darkness
does search
its way towards
the surface
of my person
a pen remains
my only means
of navigating
my way through
a life of service
and though
i write
a ground floor
legacy
i may leave
forgotten
in a blink
there be
later room
for sleep
i am writing
still
by moonlight
on mission
to exhaust
(t)his ink.
