Evening Comes

West undresses,

Drunk on colors no one else will wear,

Passing them off to trees

Who stand like old men in a line,

Scratching their heads at the youth's odd fashion.

You watch the split:

One world scales heaven,

The other, a leaden anchor,

Sinks without a ripple.

Between them, you're the child

Neither parent claims at the playground—

Left with a voice too faint

For the house hushed by secrets,

Nor devout enough

To hymn with star-bound choirs.

Your life's a tangled skein

Threads you can't tease apart.

One moment, a rock in your shoe,

The next, a spark trying to catch,

A shy flame whispering up into night.

Each breath—a pendulum

Swings from stone to star in your chest.