Sacrament of Tears

(Written for my friend B, who is going through a divorce right now.)

In the yard,
The record spins;
Scratched,
Repeating a verse
That bluntly beats
The temples
Bloody.
Chanting to the tune,
Back hunched,
Shuffling shoes
In a melancholy march.

The cuffs exchanged
With love and naivety.
An ever-lasting bond
Now makes heavy hearts
And hands.

Under the heat
Of the sun
And stagnant
Silence
Is a tin cup

Poured
Empty
Through the lips of the sufferer.
No water left
To sustain two.
Succored only
by the salty sweat
Of drudgery,
And the sacrament
Of tears;
Black scars
Moisten a pale face,
The last well
In danger of drought.

Shackles loosened,
A naked finger
Reviles the dissonance
Of a static life.
A naked finger
Fortified
With freedom.