Everything, Generally, Erodes

A yell visceral and ground wrenching
Shaking ever so viciously

My legs learned quickly to be rubber
To bend when the wooden shingles shook,
When concrete rippled-
Like waves of a great gray ocean-
To its foundation,

And I would stand as witness
To two fault lines giving way

And I was powerless
To violent assaults of furniture
Ambushing defenseless dandelion fortifications,
To crystal shards of windows and sentimental porcelain
Shattering
Upon kissing floor,

This is the only affection I saw

When I was young my feet were magnets for glass

Cleaning up debris like a vacuum
Lubricating tile and linoleum
With blood restore a shine long lost bond-
How easily can earth be brought
To a standstill when bearing witness to the destruction of innocence

When I was young my feet were magnets for glass
And my house like my legs were impervious to complete collapse,

Drifting apart like Pangaea
A sea of alcohol slowly splitting land masses in two,
Mother an island of rebirth
Father a faltered landmass of pollution

Now an adult
Now the quakes come no more
But now an adult
I still remain a vacuum,
The exception being
Now, I pull glass from my wrists and thighs
And no longer
Are my feet magnets

Gap Year

Make the most of it they say,
As if that’s not
What we’re already trying to do
Though definitions vary between late
Evenings and impending sunrise,
Watch night sky glisten with match
Sticks striking skin, a glimmer of pointillism
Find our way home by connecting the dots
Taking time holding onto consequence of being
Together under assumption that if these eyes
Never close dawn can never come
But it does and how sweetly significant it is
That the day can end in reverie against such
Sullen cries of waning innocence

Pulled awake with thick honey beams
Shrugged off residual suppositions
Lingering still a soft pot of moral support ready
To mitigate existential insecurity waits eagerly
In the kitchen or outside painted as neoteric
Portraits of wash-town forests
Take a break decide course of action
Stretch and listen leaves whisper hymnals
For the day’s intent, sing along
A chorus of vibrant arrangement

To run or wander is always
The question the Great Mother Moon asks,
To rest or mend is what’s requested when
Our eyes open, revealing again an opportunity
To repeat or start anew