Like a moon,
thinking, this night
leaves me able to
hobble along
the way.
Don’t step on
the crack, says
my mother’s
back, and I take that
as truth, like night now.
I don’t wanna
‘oh, god, it’s just
the furniture’
about it all, yet
I don’t wait for white.
The sun’s on the
surface and it is
warm and we all stand
together, unable to tell
the difference anymore.
And so I fear
the peace
of mind;
the accepting &
regretting
a world left letting.
