papery intuition

a shadow etches my name
writing it as though it was inked by the sun
and slivered by the moon; even its darkest quotients
and craters edging like a spine of a assembling book

a river like a styx makes memory easier to remember
with the fear of forgetting; my life uneventful
still a source of some esoterica — how the soul
writes its own meanings; it’s own footnotes
that the tongue caught but could not spell
and the bibliography grafted on angel wings

making my lunar self catch the singed fingers of my
solar silhouette — chasing each other in the cosmos
knowing the insights of being lost stitched to fate
and destiny the dental cast that stays
when you are paper for the leaves to read.—

Speak yer mind

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