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.