The waning light
Yet, on fire for me
Like Lot’s wife
But found mercy, found grace
Having fled the chaos
Found a late rainbow
I’m sad like a leftover quart of rainbow sherbet purchased on last October’s last sizzling-hot day
I burst out of the schoolhouse that Autumn afternoon, determined to hold fast to my gratitude for the sun and the heat that’s fleeting that time of year
My only goal, to fight back against the falling back that steals my morning sunlight, even when I’m mindful
The temperature dropped the very next day, as did my heart, as did my interest in the rainbow, interest in the heat, my interest in the sherbet.
It’s almost June now, is just how sad
There is this
Woven into our hands
Spin this into gold, we will
Despite the untenable hands we’ve been dealt
Despite the phantom hands we feel
Extended to us, then taken away
Let us not act our age one night in New York City. When the smoky underground Club’s strobe light distress-signals us, let us just say yes. As, for God’s sake, it is the one place that accepts us as we are and we refuse to notice that they spell it wrong.
The rainbow-haired, don’t care dance is ours and theirs and we were born this way, to steal away -the lot of us, the we. There’s no one who’ll make us go back to the where we once called home. The white-noise sizzle of this place will see to that.