Private Disgrace

Shame sleeps
behind the barbed wire
of self recrimination.

Sleeping forever is closest
to heaven.
A blot of error.

Fallen expectations
hold him
by his very breath.

He is tempted to throw
very air away
before some hunger starts again.

Some pulse of desire,
dependably lurks,
even in his bed,

not empty, because he is still
in it. Even the end
may not bring relief.

Even in heaven God might say,
we expected more from you,
now go try to make some angel happy.