ESKIMO SHORE

The Night is a blue halo stringing me to the
Moon, she feared I would get lost again to the
motions of my intangible state, but no pale
gleaming abstraction can keep me from losing
myself to the acoustics of softly imprinted
remembrances-not anymore, once they swelled
fast and sure in my veins like sugar, and glazed
my skin in the honey that incinerated my once
virtuous compass, my heart will always remember
the melancholy impressions that beckoned me
to slice and skewer, and the words seething
my birthright with a shanty of lies, there was
too much spoken suspension for me to accept,
and the Truth couldn't pretend to be less than
what she was-neither could I, so pale Moon
that I am...I must revolt against reaching out
to the raw tangibility of you, your company
I must replace with the silence of my Eskimo
shore, courting the distance with my tears,
and abstractions less than tangible truth.

October 3, 2011