Forgive me Cathy for

I have skinned my shin running through the heather

I have grimly picked at that wound further shunning antiseptics

until it raised a scar as sympathetic as your exquisite face that

I have ever had the pleasure of beholding incarcerated

in the locket you gave me that I have loyally worn like a leash

I have never confessed before but came close on exhuming your coffin Cathy

I have been down so long that when I first came to

the Heights a raw foundling you looked like up to me

I have been contemplating suicide but it really doesn’t suit my style

I have always found myself determined to survive I have smoked one toke

over the line I haven’t got the time time I have been a fool of kismet

I have sent stuffed bears to be rent by curs I have missed your tripwire wit

I have perused the daguerreotype albums of the beloved silvery dead

I have excellent aim I have to recollect the scent of your uncombed hair

I have torn from a bible the page that begets In the beginning

and eaten it before the besotted eyes of the faithful

I have to be in heaven by which I mean you Cathy I am Cathy

I have a dread of spreading civil unrest I have read more than you would fancy

I have suddenly realized the meaning of My Mother: Demonology

I have borne global warming while eating black pudding

I have no friends I have a dream I have to remind myself to breathe

I have to get you back you wick slip vixen hot and shocking as any siren

I have a right to kiss her only if she smiles just like you smiled

I have told my folks I’m getting help Cathy but I’m helpless before you

I have lapped musky rum from your quim I have some things to do

I have been thinking of our last night together when we lay

rain-stippled behind the low stone wall on the rentier’s farm

in the cryptogamous country that claimed neither of us and

you climbed on me until your lips became my skin it was thirsty

I have masturbated imagining you in my dank bunk twice today already

I have absquatulated furtive as a sasquatch with pilfered porcelain and

bills from the shop’s till but now I have but pennies to my mendicant name

I have just returned from a visit to my landlord I have come home let me

have it I have lost the locket I have just heard the branches scratch

the brittle window strobe-lit under bombastic thunder Cathy I am sorry

I have sinned against you if I spoke a false god’s name not yours my dirty

deity how dare you leave me my confessions have not relieved me

have mercy lead me down to you I have to know Cathy what must I do

to haunt your ghost Cathy what haunts a ghost