Spare Me Some Love, Fidelis. Poem by Jethro Kisakye Mark

Spare me some love, Fidelis—
the way a beggar spares a coin
from the hand of a saint,
or rain spares one roof
while drowning the village.

Give me what you have left
after you have fed the wolves,
after your heart has paid its taxes
to every stranger who called it home.

I do not ask for the moon.
It has disappointed me enough—
always hanging above the ruins
like a witness too beautiful
to testify.

Give me a cup of your silence.
I have learned to drink from empty things.
I have kissed the rim of absence
until my lips forgot
what warmth was supposed to mean.

Jethro Kisakye Mark.