"Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs."
Every month the moon performs a strip tease,
unveiling herself, vulnerable and shaking
embarrassed, she slips the night sky over
her shoulder to hide.
as do I.
The Iris' violent violet petals, unfurl
ribboned arms, curling up to heavens and
down to hell, bending apart from
her yellow powder heart.
as do I.
In summers, there's an insect who sheds
a crunchy shell clawed onto willow bark, is it
growing like a snake does or completely changed
like a butterfly? or does it both?
as do I.
My layers peel back, like cuticle skin
picked till bleeding, revealing below,
I break character, forgot my line, and
one turns away from the fragility.
as do I.
In crowded spaces, there is always
a child crying among the collective roar,
pitch sharp and cutting, one wonders
how the others so easily ignore.
as do I.
