Issue 12

Summer 2014


Dying Trade

Another speculative morning shows
itself in thrown-on clothes, with budding eyes;
it won't liaise with me because it knows
I've shuttered up my love before sunrise.
In case it catches my pre-coffee mood,
I'll barricade my face in printed walls;
that's not because I'm ignorant or rude
but hesitant to deal and you're the cause.
You force my understanding to mature,
reminding me that love makes no demands
but it's a quiet smiting I endure
pre-emptively, from self-embarrassed hands.
It's not a healthy business, loving you;
the assets are intangible and few.


Sarah White