The Persistence of Light

November 28th, 2015 § 0 comments


I’m through with choosing
how many volts and which wattage,
playing the persistence of lamplight:
exposing everything, all at once.

I prefer the flicker of flame
A light that twists against its tether
As my ribcage slides along my breast
singing: “I am lonely but growing”

Returning home, I kill the headlights
before they once-over the house.
This is my own breaking and entering
My own two fingers inside of me,

A dark home makes for less walls.
The trees sit before the curtains,
Branches I’ve tucked in as children to sleep
by candlelight, the moon in my living room.

The house, a diminishing circumference,
I pray alongside it. here in this quivering space
my heart resigns its
tether, felled from my chest
like oil to flame, set like the darkness
ablaze, and renounced, of the lamplight



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