On The Equinox

A silence deafening to hear
Gathers in the collective shadows
Left by an intimate Indian Summer
When there is nothing else to hate
Save a creeping chill on the horizon
That tells us winter is on its way
These hands held out and observed
This light flickers in the breeze
Candle wax drops onto the ground below
Precursor to the forbidden cold
That will soon take its liberties
And the distance between degrees
Is a gaping hole knit with twine
Stitched together with skin and bone
Looking backward for reassurance
Or a chance to wash it all clean
These resolutions gain no purchase
When the pain never goes away
But the people often do
Drifting out of this hazy frame
Like toy soldiers off to war
Leaving this quiet storm behind
These memories of life and love
And all of the broken promises
All these shadows left by raindrops
That will soon enough be snowflakes
Melting on our tongues.

Baptism

These skies are ominous
Clouds full to burst
Overripe with rain
A deluge ready to fall
Onto the cold, hard ground
Desperate for a baptism
For a chance to come clean
The downpour arrives
Steady and persistent
Like this headache
Straining for days
Against my skull
Looking for an escape
Fighting for relevance
Conscious of this sin
That moves, serpentine
Waiting for a break
A seismic shift in the sky
As I stand naked beneath
Hands outstretched in prayer
In acceptance of these faults
All too commonplace
As this water pounds down
Eyes closed to soak it in
Fingers reaching out
To touch the hand of god

Or a reasonable facsimile.

Playlists & Apologies

The song plays on repeat
This playlist destroyed
Wrecked by expectation
And way too much Celine
Her apologies much too late
Overgrown like weeds
Making me want to scream
To hyperventilate
Drive a stake into the ground
And dance around it
She looks like a statue
Frozen to the spot
No chance to pivot
Or reclaim her standing
But she won’t go down like this
These excuses on her lips
Like all the lies before
When the music was her song
And the playlist was “love”
But the tension has drawn tight
The marionette strings cut
The music drowning out all else
Except for the whispered plea
Save for the accidental grace
That often makes mistakes
That draws in these angel wings
And I believe she can fly
But this isn’t R. Kelly
No choir in the background
Just a woman standing still
In the middle of my epiphany
Waiting for the song to end
As if it ever will.