Writing

“Is that what you’re wearing”

She says

Not as a question

But a judgment

A cold declaration

That I’m doing something wrong

Many years have passed 

Wearing away at my soul

Yet I will never forget

Those 2020 backyard nights we spent 

Collecting acorns and playing tag under sunset skies

Tonight, stars are falling,

Over Chicago, New England, Texas,

From angry east to angry west,

Dark cars: hearses that we don't call hearses

Roll silently towards lively, warm houses,

Fire is like a person. You can change how it looks but it's still the same. 

You can color your hair, pierce your ears or change your clothes, but you're still the same person.

what do the wings write, light in the sky

tales told to the whistling, empty guy

stellar moon that turns eyes hibiscus pink

darling dark hair, shining star, who slips his hand away in the morning

reminds me of crows billowing, in the middle of the day when I can see their wings

of snow and christmastime, falling bright orange or blue, covering shadows

watching it all from up high