Qui, mortis saeuo geminent ut uulnere causas,
omnia uipereo spicula felle linunt.
Maximus
why am I writing you?
you’ll throw away the letter
when you see my name
up here
the locals smear their blades
with poison
to up the chances
of a fatal wound
circling the walls like wolves
the rooftops gleam
with last year’s crop of shrapnel
as my fourth winter
stretches into spring
no rest for me
even in dreams
I’m riddled
like a target
sweating on the chaingang
or worst of all
I dream I’m
safe at home
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