KS Culbreth

i cannot sing

i cannot sing
to beg i am ashamed
draped only with
once your tresses
i court thee still

an august moon
the fog and cool
abandoned trains of
old once traveled
beside your porch

though only the
atlantic separates
our glittering skies
until the spring
it is broad walls

slipping as if of glass
escalading, cheating
through the maze it
is not the means but
the end that has crossed

seas, that brings
out of hiding the embrace
of our next spring
to beg patience
is my only shame.