steven somersbee

we’ve faced many delinquent shadows
prior to the morning sun light rising
on a face stoned to disfigurement, some
facts reign true for night, but day rests
and longing cast moulds of eerie deception,
though you seemed smaller than I remembered
that growth had swelled opposites, and that statue
of stoic beauty bested itself, for now, there is
a stiff metal raising your murdered cane,
in an ugly rendition questions were raised
to be asked, and I answered in a truth seldom
acknowledged concerning the grievance
of traitors, with many gardened ideals
your season has ended, and while you may
have died, many grow beyond simplistic
givens.