The Firstborn Stands Sedated

You lost and found me in these
Ulterior spaces
The firstborn stands sedated mine
A kiss too late
Benign good mornings that I cannot re-do
October sneers
Incised fore-warnings that your mutable knots loose
A sobering fear
Knives white like frozen honey
Seep inside me
Arc and flay
«Confess», you scream
A shred of something
Now an art piece on display
Hands divide you
Lambs deny you fits of clarity, restrained
Vanished people searching nerve-ends
Missed, sought, pleasantly maintained
Hands inside you
Lambs decide who fits
Life centrally contained
Smiling damaged
Lurching forward
Bleached twins and bathing in bright
Interior spaces
The firstborn sand, cremated fine
Spring’s hiss opaque
Benign good mornings that I cannot see through
October sneers
Disguised in burning, white disposable classrooms
I loved you even there