that's mrs. mediocrity to you

keeps playing through my head and
i walk my way through
this melody of motion

stay busy stay busy stay busy
stop, drop, and roll
lay on the floor crucifix-style
stare at the sky/ceiling/sky
a bit longer

strangely, the race feels over. life has slowed to its essence:
breathe and begin, breathe and begin.
the floor, the ground, the hollowed out place where a heart used to be,
these are my constant companions, and i adore them for their loyalty.

(just as i adore the beautiful souls who stand beside me through my trial)

circles circling and life living and hearts bleeding/breaking/beating
just as they always have.

last night, in a dream, i heard rapping on my window.
hard, insistent,
and i thought it was you.
or the moon.

it doesn’t matter which, really.
the sky was filled with clouds
and lost coyote screams

and i felt no fear,
nor did i part
the thin white curtain.

for you have no face and i, no mystery.

just this silence
filling cracks
with bits of blue.