Oh, for the sighing of the flesh

Samantha Romano, sketch

Oh, for the sighing of the flesh after its own kind,
for the seeking of the eye after other eyes
which, as itself, see form and beauty, 
and must prize
a comeliness to which it must be blind.

Oh, for the wanderings of the mirrored mind
in memory’s research
after its past allies,
for the hungerings of the heart
that tantalize unsullied souls
that have withstood the wind.

This song I fastened
to an earless banner
waving unseen in the night
while scattering the weight
of unnumbered mournings over a life caressless,

and shared what shone through an enshrouded craving
with them who likewise lamented their thankless fate
as criminals awaiting
Someone to arrest us.
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