Out of the box


       100 poems/52 weeks challenge’ 2018

I was born in an empty box
and laid in it
like a sleeping man in his grave,
but soon I could play
and even watch the stars
from the fourth wall,
of a cat’s noonish dream.

A man sidestepped upon it once
and stood upon me
like a tall shadow upon the moon
and so the box tore away;
I stood naked in the wind
and the stars were brighter
than I had ever seen before.

Soon the night surmises
the lapse of people without boxes,
And so you begin again
create emptiness within emptiness,
like a form of winter clothing.

But what are we
if not terribly stripped
–in this brittle time–
of boxes and cycle-ends.

I have clothed myself
in an unraveling,
when a man told me of a house of boxes,
but one without a roof;
The stars are lakes again,
dark angels
that will always fall in the night,
what of your house then
and what of my boxes.



Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s