i.
Since dusk, I’ve not been the same.
Please don’t ask me about terms,
I’d only say what I know, never enough.
All the pages hidden in all the forests
Await a word that will remain
When the trees are gone. And now?
Now nesting takes precedence
As prelude to song.
In dreams, we find the physics of desire.
Had I any sense, I’d make my bed
Where tides can’t tickle my nose.
Someone else shut the light.
ii.
I feel better now.
My mental checklist
Lies in tatters at my metaphysical feet.
Can you tell I grew up Catholic,
Loved the pasty taste of the wafer,
Water and wine sweet on priestly fingertips?
Guilt is the yeast of personality—
Without at least a little we’d lie flat,
No reason to rise. This poem
Becomes my body, and yours as well.
That’s a miracle in my book.
Anything less, I’d have stopped.
Photo by Patrick Hendry on Unsplash
