these days
my time is turned
paying tribute
to lives lost
or never realized
dreams
a heart wove
as you
shoveled sand
into hourglass
of promise
and empty
all the while
pretending
not to notice
the mountain
you were melting
and mostly
it’s all just air
resting ripe in a bowl
far too damaged
for kintsugi
rift-silent and
hover proud
waiting
[still]
and open
always open
for repair
.
.
i’ve got all these pieces
shard sharp and jagged edged
heart blood dark
and silence hole
splayed across
this worn wood floor
tracing steps and trapped pretension
as it all rolls uphill
sideways
mirror mirror
pasted smile
fallen glimpses in the corner of reflection
shape shifting
loose oil carnage
and the dream I had
before
our room filled with smoke
my mind-body
shaking us both awake
certain there was fire
i still see the haze each midnight
floating right
above the quilt
i bought
to shelter the you
(or me)
i can never quite
remember
.
