Loading Dock Lost

And the quiet one
slips out and down the back
stairwell. I still take that twist
of steps myself but have forgotten
the smell of the rail
corridor. Anyone can die
at any moment. Anyone can nose
around to detect the real
me now that the smoke
has cleared. I can breathe deeply
and know there was a life—and
this is fragile.

Eleven Cubed

Whoever erased
all thoughts of him
from my head while I

slept last night
will become the new
mystery I expand

into an obsession
before snow falls
on another civil

twilight. Could be spitting
out toothpicks
for all I care.

The Best Thing To Do

To lift each piece
of mismatched furniture
to sweep beneath

is a risk

to find faith
in the ability to face
the ache and relief

and horror and
acceptance of a mystery
tragically solved.

Written on the Skin

Total exposure before a second
full moon passes over 

the sky to our right is my wrong
impulse—the one I don’t have 

the courage to plunge into darkness.
I still can’t explain why 

a morning ghost
moon makes me want 

to believe in mystery’s propulsion
over city lights.