Glass Chains

With a mouth that could not open,
I masticated
grinding the red and green
to shreds
that I might shit them out
atop
your silent, waiting form.

Stairwell

Half-glance in a rushed white-lit stairwell
the two of us passed unaware,
or maybe just unprepared between us,
that there might be such proximity.

Half heart-beats inside constricted chest
these two eyes but fail in knowing
or maybe just failed to see
that, for a moment, you were so close to me.

Half-known inside a confused mind
mine two hands did tremble -
or maybe just fell-to-sides unhinged -
as I reconstructed your face atop hers to see.

Half-gone thoughts inside a suspicious soul
my more than two visions failed to agree -
or maybe just failed to concede
that never again might such nearness be.

Knives

There's that line again
two steps ahead
marching ever-onward.
Its loss,
met with melancholy,
lifts the globe -
but closes the gate.

Chained, I follow
two steps behind
ever-vigilant
just in case
a flawed link
should appear in the phalanx.

And that is why I carry a knife.