old at 8

on auxiliary thought
it doesn’t seem
as if life can get
too heavy but
my bones no longer
care to witness
the simple matter
that is before me

time is lost but like
my bones it prefers
to be in limbo and
time, she knows distance
is for my own good

apart from some golden
days and some hours
made of lead i can stand
up and smile at Pluto
my fourth grade friend

on the yard where

riddles stood for rites of passage

routine

your lip moves a little

     eye lids wild   sleep takes you

i imagine i kiss you and i ever so lightly

    touch your arm           hold your calloused hand              your scent invades me     as i yearn to be taken

yet in your waking hours    you revoke permission of my eyes

                   landing on you

i could watch for ever     your gray eyes trap me

      you laugh at me    my smile drops in

as i feign glee outwardly      the flower i brought you

    has wilted away    then i sang you my love   on bloody knee

you stood over me    and shook your head