After a night of writing scenes of deliberate silences filled with the unsaid
I wish for my own.
I want to tempt fate and be moving,
a little moon like,
a little like a bottle of vodka and midnight.
But really I’m just sitting here thinking back
So many measured moments in my life,
the sort that measure trust and dare,
the ones that make a science out of insanity.
Those times you know just by showing up
everything gets more intense
and you just might
and you can taste it.
Back then it was easy to just,
and then there would be a dance of
well until no one else was left.
Now is more complicated,
but the dance repeats itself
and we pause
well I pause
and I think about what dance I am I doing
am I mother
am I lover
am I something else completely?
I wait for letters from all over the world
each one sends me to different pieces of my past
I touch everything
black berries crushing between my fingers
the thrill of a barbwire torn shirt
borrowed silk pajama bottoms
copies of old pulp novels
a liberty dime I still have somewhere
a moment standing in the blood red snow under a full moon.