when doubt is your friend,
what kind of truth are you living?
dusk dims again to day
and what was turns may have been
in the back of the eye
I have seen certain lose its peak
yet beyond the depth of the retina,
there is solace
every thing in its right place
in *this* time and space
to bump in the night.
I tow degrees of disillusion
rollicking through the room
finding promise in glass broken, wedged in bare soles,
swept away, dislodged by careful hand
– see, tender and tough do not oppose –
with bruises from hip to shin, ripe and healing
in tones of sunset and sunrise.
I dance, lifted on stubbed toes
all the while,
sowing ahead through tears and laughter.