Recognizable cost.
Territorial loss.
I am even with your thoughts,
holding your trembling hands.
Fabling on dimmest realities,
screaming in closets
for closure’s clarity.
Losing our trail,
on a crippled horse.
Moving backwards,
while weather
keeps getting worse.
I leave bottles open
to count droplets
in unified rush.
One barren journey
to see where we divided
our asymmetrical petals.
Washing our eyes with soil,
flooding a space
beneath our feet
with dried tearstains.
Are we leading our moments
over into recognition?
Forgetfulness. Regretful pools,
where a moon will glow
for another second to a year
continuing to leave tears
as diamonds
for impoverished oceans.
Toss a coin
into a fountain.
Take another flavor
of wealth from these
losing sides. We blanket
our forms, in war.
We have buried
our streams, in roots.
Beginnings with nothing
to hide, except for
what we reveal.
Modern Romanticism 