A Moving Beast Back Forward


Like displaced house
wares outside, maybe
you feel carried by this gust,
traversing a path you never
thought much of
taking on your own.
I’ve since seen serenity
pass over your face
& though I know
its maintenance
fees are laughable,
a lungful of clarity
will lull you to sleep.
Funny how peace
can so easily be imagined:
a sweeping stroke of Payne’s Gray
painted on the double-edges of vision.
Like mine, your sight also can’t
reach behind you.  But
you face forward with more
solid effort than I’ve seen
on the thickest piece
of wood left in the rain.
You soak & manage
while I warp & shrink
like plastic no. 6
in a very hot oven.
Give me a moment
to reoccupy to myself.
I’ll never
be dressed
in the dresses
I only remember—
time is a moving beast
that won’t swallow
electric, mindful signals.
In them, motion & stasis
are in fact similar.
Please choose one tonight
to lay a minute
on my breast.
I do like your heart,
in every stage
I feel it shift.