I’m carving words like scripture
into some cathartic bible.
I’m releasing every psalm
into a gypsy dance.
they’ll shuffle in this Dve Gitary
and leap into an empty sky
finding their graves
in the chasms left by fallen gods.

I’m ending a song today.
the very last of it will linger
on my lips like a bastard hum.

when it’s gone forever
and the last of its tendrils
have loosened themselves
from my neck,
I will whistle.
my lips will pucker
and I will say my own name.
each letter will sound off
like glass harps
playing obscure Gregorian chants
on Siberian fields.

I will finally be free
and all my dreams
will taste the sunshine
and every storm
will rain my tears.