Friday, August 14, 2009
Upended I look for forgiveness through deception. A tiny boy lies inside a tunnel afraid of the future and wonders where it went. To you this my seem unimaginable, a place without a process, a word without a voice, but it does exist, I know. Tell your mother you love her and go. Forward, backward it doesn’t really matter. I hold the candle, you blow out the flame, I relight it and you walk away. Me, you, only words connected by grammatical context. Often at night the heat leaves and I am cold. Awaking to fear and hypothermia in the middle of summer often arouses suspicion.