He filled his pockets with stones

to devour alone late at night

when no one near need hear

his tangential confessions.

With so many pockets of guilt

to tuck his scattered bits

of complicity, years crept

past him like mountains,

always present, gnawing

at the horizon’s edge.

He woke into a remorse—

a complex rendering 

each day of a single act

no one else remembered.

(May 9, 2023)