May 11th
I wear my white gown with tiers of nothing
but unsolved operas lying underneath
My smile sits lopsided and dawn hangs
around the kitchen in grape shades watching
for the first light to leave by
There is always one star left in the sky -
the one that left the ship for shore time
but now wonders why the party died
There is the sun rising in a salmon colored
introduction, struggling through the gray.
Soon clear piercing light will make its way
into the beginning of the things I need to do.
Soon I will become who I am when I am not
watching words out my window or listening
to the sound of my heart, not hollow,
but a history of unnamed restless beats
slipping into the fading shadows like a warning.