Elegy

Three years ago you cradled me, ashamed
and bleeding, blue veins split like rail-
road ties, an old futility inflamed
by Quaaludes and a strange, thick lust grown stale.
As I slept, you quietly took my blade
and wove it willingly into your life,
and I awoke to find that I could trade
my pain for your peace in our current strife.
Last week on 12^th St., you jumped from the roof,
the weight of my old hurt tied like a stone
around your waist, someone’s final reproof
for my failure to bleed blood on my own.
How is it that we both refused to see
that peace for one carries a penalty?

Copyright 2004 by Sam Piperato.