Lotus

It followed him like a curse. Every step he took, the tick tick ticking of his heart echoed in the chamber of his ears, trailing him in the hallways, threatening to expose all that he was.

The sky spreads itself wide,

a canvas, breathless and unspoken.

As dusk dips its brush in purple and gold.

Each cloud is a stroke,

soft as whispering wind,

and—

time
(itsoveritsoveritsoveritsover)
stops.

there

are
tears
in
your
eyes,
mascara
smeared

The West Wind is a banker in a smart navy suit and a tie. His dress shoes clack on the pavement; he’s got someplace to be, always someplace to be, rushing to the sidewalk, the subway, the elevator, checking his gold Rolex watch.

Every Halloween, one house on your street stays dark; no lights, no candy, no decorations. The neighborhood kids whisper about it, daring each other to knock, but no one ever does.

The moon hangs low tonight,

quiet as a thought not yet spoken.

Her light hovers over rooftops

and sifts through the cracks in curtains,

touching everything gently,