Holy days passed by— looking back through faint fragrances to catch a glimpse. Underneath carport shadow pink plastic teacups, my small hands, getting the lowdown on the phantoms in the backyard. So much I’ve forgotten in the corners of the toolshed— so much forgotten lying scattered across the yard, wrapped around the grass blades. My brother points to the black cloak wandering the apple orchard at noon. Red and yellow figures dance out from the wall as stran

It’s nothing like a chess problem, the toggling ardor, this advance and retreat; forward then back all black, white and cerebral. It’s nothing like chess; like the leather hand stuck to a black bishop I saw in a public park, an ancient mind whirring overhead. It’s not chess, but one could be forgiven for assuming it was that premeditated. More like a dance. An ebb and flow, fluid undulation of hips he pedals her back. She retreats, persists, parries and twists

I. Hearken an Aching Heart There’s a feeling deep in my being, reaching up, felt in the canals I made of my body. Felt in the irregular heartbeat, hearts meet. Light blasts into the wooden room at a soft angle song angels dance in the dust I let my tears fall into the approaching dusk, and wave goodbye to who I was. Taking a heavy step forward, Older, now. II. An Inquiry What have you seen? -All. Who have you told? -None. Why? III. Left alone, Silent throne -away chances of m