Category Archives: The Liminal Times

Backbeat

mirthlessly Backbeat

I have danced in public once in my life.
For my wedding.
Took a lesson.

But I secretly dance every day,
though I guess it’s no longer a secret.

For the dogs,
and the setting shadow
against the back wall.

All attempted rhythms
and contorted shapes,
but my Byrne is spot on.

They know:
if sound and fury
finds a backbeat,
it signifies everything.

And sometimes,
when the song ends
and the room cools again,

I stand still in the quiet.
One breath,
two,
and wait to see
if the house will dance back.

Most nights it doesn’t.
But some evenings,
the dogs catch it:
their paws thump the floor,
their tails swing in time,
and the room moves again,
alive in its own applause.

The Passing Through

buy provigil online canada The Passing Through

I am a body of small weather,
a wind through larger winds.

Nothing stays mine:
the scent of oranges,
the hush of dusk,
the stray dog nosing a wrapper.

But everything touches me for a second
and goes on.

I once thought I was the keeper,
hands cupped around what mattered.
Now I know I am the passing-through,
the brief warmth on a windowpane.

I give nothing back but this stirring,
this leaning toward.
The world holds.

The Sparrow

The Sparrow

the morning started
with the sound of wings that weren’t there

a patch of yard held
what was left of a life
small as a breath,
light as a sigh

maybe a crow
maybe a hawk
maybe the sky itself

it didn’t matter who
only that the world had eaten again
and was clean about it

feathers like torn pages
scattered across dew
no sermon, no sin
just breakfast

i crouched,
and felt a kind of envy
for the certainty of hunger

looking at the feathers
i knew it wasn’t malicious
it was mealtime
it was survival dressed as cruelty

still,
somewhere inside the ribs of that quiet
i wished the world
had a gentler way
of keeping its feathers unruffled