nine pages of cannons

back to the vaulted room
boxes of single spaced
tightly written and poetic
thoughts about women.

a gust of wind appears
as if from a dream and
pages are scattered all
over the place, mixed up.

the boxes meant to contain
the images at a safe distance
were never enough to withstand
the pressure of gravity exerted from
his kind of love.

not of this earth
just too much
sympathy not
empathy and
you lose the
loose can-
non. no.
nein.