Travis Chi-Wing Lau

BESEECH ME NO MORE

my crooked child,
for your keenest edges arrive
implied in reddened eyes,
which gaze to trace how
mercy never left this world,
long pronounced doomed
before i ever did. no,
though you stared at it all
enough to grow so stony,
you still curve into living
like the currents that first
bore you. you grovel for
succor and its thousand
handmaidens, but really it is
pardon you crave as if it were
ever mine to give you. cease
now your begging for refuge
in some other form that brays
against the mechanics of your
life bent toward an aching good.

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