the furnace that burns the day away

always running to catch up,

always running—

 

but it keeps bringing me back exactly here,

back to the lone source, back to the page,

 

back to the stunning realization that

this stage will never be enough; and yet

 

this frenzied circle is all i have.

 

i will always be reaching—

forward and backward—

 

trying to engulf and eclipse with

oval arms a giant shifting moon;

 

un able to

 

sit and

be still

 

(unless asleep:

hibernating, dream-

 

ing in ellipses—only to

wake: to what? to whom?)

 

even the lines

move in couplets:

 

stronger together than

on their own

 

(even stronger than the

stanza, while the one-line

 

widow puts on the bravest face).

 

i miss my couplet.

 

i miss the coming home to

something—to someone

 

putting dinner on, putting a

movie in, putting a mouth

 

on mine and moving

me into the

 

furnace that burns

the day away.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s