Friday, March 1, 2013

O Stars

o stars
what can be done?

o stars
late i face the cold wind
to pee and end up staring
at your shimmering far
past the time my skin starts
cooing for the bed-warmth again

o stars
you rarely speak
in fact you're mute
the way i wish i was sometimes;
never have to try to tell a lover
where your love went
never have to hear your own
voice on the toilet in the dark
"fuck, what have i done?"
"i should write that letter
to my grandmother"

o stars
you always send
the same dull light
and fade just when i need you most;
at the flowering of dawn
when i can no longer hide
in the shadows of moonlight
and hope i remain
unseen before the human world
counting the silences of stars