opposite sides of sky

old news
throbs fresh ever,
how typical of me
to cling to yellowing threads
that serve only to slice
my fingers.
how typical of earth
to continue her steady
pilgrimage around sun.
how typical of us to conceal
ourselves in silence
on opposite sides of sky.

it gets worse at night,
or so they say.
i do not want to hide
any longer in moon’s shadow,
and anyway, you never come
looking for me.

it’s so old- your thumb
grazing my knuckles
like i belong to you.
do you remember the lights?
i shivered and you laughed,
airily, holding me because
i was so frightened
i would float away.
how many more times will
i drift around the sun
and beg your name
against heaven’s breast?




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