Equinox

 

Equinox

 

We are caught in between acts,

we tightrope walkers

trembling on the fine line between night and day,

unable to finish,

the world ceasing

to care

 

Somewhere along the line

the spotlight had slipped off unnoticed,

had faded into the fog

as all Berkeley solstices do

 

I was so sure fall had arrived

It was unmistakable.

My hands were raw

from the burn of the chilled coastal mist

and from pounding out a carnal

cadence on your door

at some godforsaken hour

 

But you rose

and touched me as if it was still spring.

Your half-moon eyes

pulled me into bed with you.

Your fists bloomed into long petals.

 

We awake in your curtained room

unsure whether it is dawn or dusk

We are stranded,

each to an island of blankets

and I am searching your eyes for a beacon

 

Seeing none,

I pour out the libations

in solemn silence

to appease the Fates, to empty

the bottles I need to fashion

vessels of hope, of desperation,

a thousand ship salute

across a sea swollen with pride

 

Oh but would they burn

like floating funeral pyres,

the fleet of memories aimed at your heart

and expelled out of my own,

the flames only requited by water?

 

What doesn’t touch you can’t hurt you.

 

Or can it?

You once chose a knife to your wrist

as if you were carving your half out of my life,

the patterns of missing flesh like hieroglyphs

etched permanently in my heart.

 

So what can I do,

but drink it all down,

fill flesh with flesh,

lengthen the rope

and keep walking

 

as if my life depended on it