On some level I know I do not belong to this,
taut rope at the end of fine woven thread,
worn like a domestic noose,
nice and loose,
feet kicking out the distance
of mentionless miles
acquired to appease the urge to stay vital.
Those rapturous bells now hushed,
a dilapidated chapel at midnight,
only memory can read purity
on this soiled facade
whose rubble of relics
were boxed and closeted mementos
mapping our travel.
Crumbs on fine China plates
anticipate honeymoons ending,
reveal what’s lingering
beyond death carving into the best baked plans.
The knowledge cures us of naivety
but casting its shadow,
initiates a change.
Can we appreciate
the full scope of innocence re-arranged.
It’s disturbing when your own associations
service the undoing.
Stepping into that arena
you state your intentions,
asking for protection
to soften the steps of your treading,
while poems place a law
on moments that would otherwise decompose.
In the alcoves of a sprawling tree
I got to know your secrets well.
The once locked trunk
was like a psyche split open.
In the recesses you left offerings,
with Boo Radley you played hide and seek.
Turning down a shaded driveway,
pass the threshold
you tested like cool water.
Sandy slippers await your return,
underwater caves learn of what happened
beyond the wave break,
where familiarity shifts shape
and sharks devour us
in reef mouths a gape.
The black skin must have been
air tight India ink.
The sun slips through again,
stripping you of dark garments.
All the fear that followed you here,
slinking to find sustenance elsewhere,
in some deep well beneath a canopy of thoughts,
in the eaves of trees
that do not sit still but walk,
when we weren’t watching,
moments return to eternity.