I walk behind my footsteps
when I follow you and I.

I do this to tread underneath myself
because following my shadow

is the way I stay one step ahead
of you. Before you go, I am

already gone. I know your colors--
the clear white understanding

of a black goodbye. I want to see the face
that plays the mask, the cheeks

that curve high into your bones when you
smile. I hide behind the words

you breathe to make sure I am
not left speaking by myself.

You joke around with solitude, thinking
the lonely do not notice.

But sadness has a limit, and when its eyes
meet patience, the sweetness

of its wait will run dry as bitter leaves
crackling under your halloween.

Why are you such an october in winter?
I suspect it's because you howl

when it's white outside. I imagine the angry
bubbles of your hour glass frizzing

upon the passing minutes as your seconds
walk away from you. Don't let me

tick away--don't allow for time
to be the only movement left between us.

Arthur's picture

Last updated June 15, 2011