Vanishing Act

Standing on the chair,

A moment in the air.

The pleasure of life & death & the knife edge

Hanging by a thread

& everything left to be spared,

I think it matters,

I think I care.

Can you save me?

The breaking bough of a burning tree.

How many ways can I saw that I’m sorry

For who I’ve been?

There’s a language left to speak

Unfamiliar to me

But what the darkness sows

The darkness keeps,

What it wants is buried

So what it keeps is me.