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Clear Cut

Clear cut

severed between what was and will be

Imperfectly, where I will go.

In perfection, where I it seems...not so...for now...

Parks and play

tapping on metal and squeaking rubber

the sort that squeals and ricochets

between surface sounds and silence

arms extended as long as smiles beneath the thinness of

muffled merriment


Forward jump and a wind that carries the battling beats

of climbing chimes and the smell of sage

on my knees


Early morning eyes

swollen in the sea of evening

and, here, nobody knows

the ancient stories my heart holds


This isn’t the first time

nor will it be the last

at the cost of this life

catch me if you can,

this time without fire or ropes or poison

There will be a return

wherein she swallows what cowardly lurks

within the flesh of sour hearts

and with each gravitational pull below

an offering to purge through acidic decay

upon castles meant to crumble.

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