past countless corners
turned,
through the filthiest
years i’ve
learned..
that wiping hands
on my jeans
never
leaves them clean.
shadow play
“whatever you
do..”
she said,
“don’t get stuck in
their heads,
why crave such possessive
attention?”
“don’t need to inhabit
dead space..”
she said.
how can you recall
the dates?
that blend into one
clanging
clock–
atop its ashy
mantle..
pleading to be
unwound
by next set of hands
to find it
making
that ungodly
sound.
swift
to speak..
but slow to
love..
when push comes
to blush
and the game
proves
hard
i crumble like
a tower of
cards.
you’re winter on
the burner
awaiting timely
thaw..
and who would
fault you
for desiring
change?
who’d dare
blame
you
for wanting less
of the same?
after the earth
shook
you rushed a
window
to observe what
remained
of outer
realm
and all its
chaos
reduced to
a hum-
consoled by
change.
kisses
in waves,
a riptide
like blades,
tossed then dragged
to the bottom
where unseen and
unsafe.
they said
i’d dreamt you
better than i knew
myself,
though i’ve held you
real enough
to sense your
absence
from my book
shelf.
startled
by the sound
of my
imagination,
woken by a feeling
i assumed had
passed,
taken with a sight
that refuses
to let
go,
settled by the voice
of someone i
used to
know.
shadow passenger
on train
nods as he
passes
by,
i’ve never caught
his face,
although we’ve
met eye to
eye.
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