Wednesday, May 4, 2016

walks.

[we know there's no one-stop solution
for absolution.
the wish is to be washed
in this startling white light;
to see a resolution
for the weight of our sins.]

an eye cast to the sky
through a lens,
she said she could see
where the sky divides.
she said she could see
the star, the sparkle in
our hearts, the star
that'd been sent
to hold us down.

the star cast long shadows
in the sand, over walks
fueled by whiskey sunrises.
we'd walk across
the shoulder
where the ocean meets the land
and marvel at how flat.

we'd walk across
cracked shells and glass
and she'd say
 "the light,
    its absence
      isn't quite right, it's
        just
          night."
she'd say
       "i'm losing the faith,
          the reason, the will
            to get you to listen."

now, i've got to walk back
through that same sand
in the same fading footprints
echoes of us at one time,
echoes at best.