My eyelids close in misery,
but where has your innocence gone?
I'd like to ignore the pounding
of raindrops on the roof,
which has been reborn into something
far less conclusive than reality.
We rush in without wonder, and witness
another miracle of self. It brushes away
the wounds of yesterday; I hear the
empty shell cracking.
Break out of your shell,
reveal the yellow bareness
of beauty; there is only
one chance left, and then it's gone,
drifting into the
blackness that was once sleep.
There is no shred of doubt.
-published in "Chantarelle's Notebook."