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Dirty Water
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Published Works At the edge of the ending there are secrets:
I am a second of time, coming forth
to claim my place in the world.
Flinging my arms
in support of defiance.
In the wink of a light there are positions:
I am a starving need, hoping to
make a connection. Grabbing at
forgiving, letting it become
my shield.
Squatting on the sand of a
beach on Lake Erie, watching
people swimming in
the dirty water. Counting
heads to make sure
none of them
have drowned.
On the hill above me
the family was
reuniting.
Pretending everything in life
was unimportant. Only this time
and this time alone
caused meaning.
For the start of the game there are rules:
The sun has a habit of making
its presence known. It beams
in pride its ability
to control our moods.
I am dropping my conversations
like fickle statues in a Church.
The ending has a point; it captures me
in a moment of self-reflection.
I would stand naked on the sand
and announce myself,
but the moment has passed
and I see there is no need.
I lie down on the dirt at the edge
of the lake.
Let the dirty water cleanse my heart.
