The Tower by Matthew Milia

I hope that this summer
sweats through all my clothes so I can taste
some sort of Second-Comer
who’ll blow the lilac-breath into my face

Now I know I’ve had three wives
the first was your ghost, the other was mine
the last comes when the day dies and then
outside the trinity just cries

Frightened by the tower
spiraled with the wild windy night
I only have one father and
I, his only child, fear is my birthright

And who has a redeemer
towering above the summertime?
when sweat will make you cleaner
and spit is all I want instead of wine

We cannot stay broken
or darken violently with summer storm
we will climb the tower
and in the burning morning be reborn