The Sun Chases The Moon

I spend a thousand blinks on old memories.
Each taste like cocaine
broken teeth, pressing
truth against my cheek, a cold shock

like this one – 
crying on the beach, sleeping in empty sea shells.
My mother eats her hands,
choking on emptiness,
on regret –  I understand,
then –

fireflies above my nose.
Bathing with my naked sisters,
collecting our shadows full
of sea water – and with a rush of the moon
a tip of years comes rushing back
and I choke, not on emptiness
but on regret, and I understand
then –

it’s the same sun that passed away,
roasting flames with me on
Sunday; and what does He do?

He moves.

 

You Think You Know Me? You’re Probably Right.

If you think you know me
or about me
or of me,
let me just tell you that
you are probably right.

I am smeared across pages
of different lives. I’ve been
blotted out, erased, ejected,
regretted,
embedded, let-go of,
set on fire,
strangled with wire
mangled to unrecognizable.

I’ve been sized up, down,
replaced, shamefaced….

graced with YOUR presence, haven’t I?

I’ve been lied to, laid on, pushed over
pushed around, pushed to the ground,
bound up by the useless,
wound up by the senseless.

I’ve been messy for a great length of time
I wait for the right time
and it always passes.
I’m days behind trying to
find myself, but I
hide well enough
that even I can’t seem to find myself.

I’ve blinded myself
with selfish ties, told myself lies to
handle my life – just to survive – revived
old times, but

times have changed
I have changed.
You think you know me?
You’re probably right.
For that time in my life.