Tuesday, January 15, 2019

Until Night Comes

I had forgotten
what it was like to be alone
and bristle at the prospect
of giving up that freedom.

It is a memory tingling at the edges of my lips
like a shoulder that aches before the rain
that makes me draw the afghan of amnesia close
and rock in a chair until the night comes.

I am done with mystery
that leaves me regretting asking the questions.
I would rather drop my yeses with a clatter
onto the floor and walk away
than give up everything
for almost nothing myself.

Tomorrow when I wake
I will gasp at the thought
that I've given up words that matter
and laughter until I am breathless
and taking in the smell of juniper
and the true nature of white pine.

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