St. Michael Stops to Get a Latte

every time I place down the pen
I fear the words will stop
they’ll stay hanging on the cusp
of the blue silence left behind
            within the repetitions
            within your words again
            within the sharp foot falls
            within the dance’s turn
the words fail
the world fails
 the melancholy beast
strides through us all
Did you see it?
The line of the star?
Did you hear the echo,
I threw toward the air?
I am at a loss crumpled
against a wall:
I don’t know how to love you
how to fend off all my fears
how to provide a space for us
throughout our troubled day
What idea are you fighting against?
Which of the demons of the earth
are scrabbling at your feet?
What level of illusion are you lost within?
Which maw of hell has swallowed you?
(November 1, 2013)

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