For All His Infamy

The irony just wouldn't let him go.
White on white, the buildings
that he never really owned.
While deep inside, the darkness crept
into each open crevasse that it kept
in secret silence from their sight.

Boredom turned into extravagance.
Perilous, the money lenders bent.
Succulent, the knowledge never shared
yet always multiplying in an unknown debt.
Black on white, the ledgers didn't balance.
Hues of color running from the counting
of the house.

He tried to speak, but sounded like a mouse
aroused by fear of feline nature. Ah, his spouse.
Spouse - the word vibrated, out of sync.
The world changed in less than just
one blink of eyes within eternity.

Contracts signed within a rush.
Foolish bonds, so ruthlessly employed.
Children grown into the great confusion.
Invisible, the tethers of the fusion.
Yet something spoke into his inner ear.
Arousing him from rounds of endless fear.

Still, the irony just wouldn't let him go.
White on white, the buildings
that he never really owned.
While deep inside, the darkness crept
into each open crevasse that it kept
in secret silence from their sight.

Towers hovered there, within his vision.
Inner flight led back to fantasy.
His wife, alone in bed, still bled
for all his infamy. A scent of danger.
Strangers drawing closer in the night.

Unknowingly, he took to flight again.
Soaring o'er the irony, searching
for the arms of love again...

? Michaelette ?

5/15/2003
Copyright© 2003 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .