You were right, my dear Chelsie.
To scrub the wounds with salt,
free them clean,
I must dig my quill
into their openings:


Follow the steady shadow of my hand.
Lead me to those subtle depths of darkness.
Fall into my palms.
Open. Closed.

Keep the motor running one moment more.
Not just yet.
Closed. Open.

Swing, swing, swing,
goes the pendulum.
Ready, duck.
Spare your senses.
Spare your head.

One response to “Reckoning

  1. Pingback: Is that You? | Light Enough to Travel·

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