Saturday, June 6, 2009
Another late night tacked onto the paycheck, I outlast the moonset. There’s gristle stuck to my mood. It resides deep in the enameled crevasses of my thought. I try to pick it out but only manage to lodge it further. Inevitably the inevitable wants invited in and I can’t help but succumb to the ghost that lingers in my head tonight. Old bones tucked in the closet worn to dust; I almost forgot the physiognomy of my skeleton. Time has done what it promised. Withered bones become a heap of white powder. I thought I could simply sweep it up and be done. I didn’t count on old bone dust disturbed, plumes the air. I find myself ingesting hollow words whispered to me so long ago. Scratchy whiskers rise from the dead and bless my cheek with curses. I am that helpless child all over again trying to breech the caveat between me and the old need to be loved.