Saturday, July 11, 2015

A search goes on

sometimes I wonder
what a young woman finds at the belly of the night
the pitch darkness may swallow her fingertips
the stardust holds a few thoughts
leftover by the residue of the morning

I know this for sure
a woman at the heart of the night is
searching for something she has lost
perhaps a key, fallen between layers of grass
perhaps a speck of hair one held
on a midsummer's night, after a bonfire

sometime, what we look for finds us first
our feet before we walk
the keys before the light turns out
I wonder if someone else looks inside
the belly of a monster for cranberries
the teeth that cut into flesh can also tear
treats dunked into sugar

my case is different, I am aware
I am searching for a way
to walk back my tracks
without widening the gaps I stepped on
once a long time ago
in the middle of the night, without a flashlight.

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