Seam

Amarillo moon, sliver of hope

Exhausted Jazz Club with my folks

Fried lightning, cover the covers

What could it mean, without the gleam

Of your face

You are the seam

Ripping from my skin

Now I’m undone

And I blame the stars

For I have no means

To accept the seams

On your face

You are the stitch

Ripping out my sin

I marveled at the Sundance;

The flames on the car

Far away from the battles

Bloodshed and stains

On your face

From the paint

Of the boundary

A memory

If anything