Night is falling sooner, I
just can’t catch my breath,
hold a friend close and
promise each other it’ll
be all right, these weary
hearts, these traveled
feet, my wristwatch counts
the steps, and I am
always on some long walk
somewhere, finding beauty
in all the great unknowns.
Money is a magic rope, pulling
tighter around the ribcage
the more you move, but
maybe it’ll be okay, split
a homemade meal and
escape into a story,
try and remember when
the breathing came easy.
MAGA hat, proud display, I don’t care
that you’re scared but don’t let
it divide us, red-faced
rhetoric, poisoned softness,
don’t meet your heroes, kid.
I bump into an old boyfriend’s
dick on the Internet, and,
I break into laughter, surprising
myself and alarming my cat,
time melting a wound down
to a punchline, after all.
Late night poetry club,
grief and gratitude right in the
midst of a hundred unknowns,
nurturing hope, scavenging
hope, purchasing hope on
layaway, in the stanzas,
pleasant wanderings home,
lamplight verses.
michael king 