Tomorrow is delicious hope
but yesterday is caught in my throat.
It will not be swallowed,
like a stubborn bone
it scratches at doors in my mind.
Tsunami hectic brick attack,
difficult moods wail.
I do not know what made yesterday
feel so fine.
What is it I cannot chew or wretch?
Why does it need a memory?
my tongue is knotted
in threads of mad questions.
Lick lips which repeat words,
blood washes the anxious.
An immoral everlasting skulks
behind my wishbone
giving life to days ago.
Sour lithium scares ghosts,
I want funerals to every day...
@Steven Francis Poems 2002
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