im still learning nada surf breezes down the
easy street lemon trees

forgive me, i forget to believe:
like morning light nun eyes split wide
still uncrested with the deep grooves of christ's thorns
and daggers in her side

those are marks that his eyes know that
suffering inside them grows until
she dies inside his arms again
their blushing sweats entangled
with the scent of that unimagined

opposite the tracks the clatters train down
hawkishly sped unveiling
wet petals spread across more dark crackled benches.