Wheel Spokes
Crunch-clatter of paving stone
leading me back again,
back to bicycle lane and
back to well-worn excuse,
That I could not find
fog light of shining memory
to take a better path than
one inscribed in blood numbers.
I took to sins of flesh
and fabric like they were
restive faces in crowded life,
then thrown like glitter
Against blaster canvas
I left in wake, solid
steel, regretted waste,
breaking voice that cut.
Doorways
Rushing abandon,
the banality of lightness,
coffee commercial banter
chattering through clasped
teeth, avoidance of bones
and birthing ghosts.
Carried same pocket brass,
took the long way around
concrete bends, used screen
door slam to soundtrack
light frost touches on lip,
settled way down in patched leather.
Rust hinge shut,
that old thing is no longer
so brutal, so bloody beating
a heart to have and hold
but one strong thing shining:
light bleaching morning curtain.
