metonymy4u

Against my very will I find myself for home again
trending beyond the river’s expired month and hoping, panicked,
to someday see again the ocean of my youth. Behind me
my years a dried up whisper, and you my bones in the yard.

Newly dead and with no history I lie face up
to an unwashed desert while a flight of tarnished wings,
meaning nothing to my story, line themselves across the sky
to empty the day at the end of the day. That being said, your

voice in my innocent ear was such that I slid easily
down a waterfall of lies and saw time as it walked away
from its partner of many years.

Tired work days often end like this:
my sun words dance prayer-like along a beam of light and
blinded I can barely see the mercy that sends me home
released from this life, a moment of pain
flanked on either side by silence.