we are scattered and
the sky is flushed orange.

someone walks by, steps on
a discarded hairpin
on the curb

it makes you cringe,
suddenness of cold water, crack
in the night;

have you ever wondered 

whether this moment might taste
like gravel, whether
one might prefer having their heart
with a hammer to suffering
a thousand tiny stabs?

and i can smile
because i feel
not because i want
my picture taken,

can cry
because i know,
not because
i think of you

1 comment:

Caitlin said...

I like the last two paragraphs. Wow, your poems are good.

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in the wake of light, your words bring me more(please, do leave your fingerprints behind, so I may relish the image of our hands after you go.)