Roger’s City and Alpena
The sunrise side
Of cold, cold mourning
Head down, no warning.
Mists of Huron
A grip so soft
yet so unrelenting.
What lies of
Beautiful dreams
Do you have for me now?
What passion
Can you wrench from
Me so as to mock
The salt that I am
And you,
You, Huron, are not.
Never have you turned
Around, never has
Regret found you;
Above sin, above passion
Like being in love
With a marble
Statue.
And I love you.
Sincerely, I do.