suicide poetry

for truth, for love
the little pitiful, worn, laughing faces
out of the window a sea of green trees
your body's motion is like music
looking beyond
i stood by the open casement
see the tentative
i am singing to you
one by one, like leaves from a tree
we break the glass whose sacred wine
over the rooftops race the shadows of clouds
when night drifts along the streets of the city
arched the flood