Reflecting Pane #II
you
following a map of your reverses, to find yourself alone, sketched in pencil-thin lines. Arising darkness
you
drag damp disappointment, perish on the shores of sadness. Watch as everything passes by
you
arrive just in time — possessed by fragility, bathed in pewter shades of the Styx. An underworld vaca. Kind of last minute
you
scramble out an open window, breath caught. Exhale in misty tendrils of hope
you
waver upon the shores of cherished children, color over lines in bursts of pastel laughter, weave a lattice-work of trusted arms
you
gather your selves together. Your polished collection of vanities, lightly white-washed in humanity, miscellaneous piles of imperfection, blanket-balmed in security
you
stand upon the edge of wonder, this preposterous improbability, eve of evolution, beloved. Picking up a pencil to pollinate
one ripened word
into another
you
2–2019: Gratefully embracing three years since surgery for jaw cancer. Thanks for reading.