~
Behold: You are unyielding
but even iron breaks its allegiances
when the poles shift.
Magnets fall.
Not in collapse,
but in molting —
the shedding before clarity.
A pattern disrupted
re-calibrated through reckoning;
light’s resurgence.
You, the Girl On The Train –
you’ve known this movement.
Exile pilgrim
wildflower-fawn,
wise in wicked practices
too feral to fold without protest.
Carried from consequence to comfort,
from a daddy-shaped silence
blessings withheld,
to a father-dimmed house,
righteous, unreachable
rehearsing the face to wear
for the next station’s interlude.
Feverishly seeking safety
to be foolish,
furious,
fully your own.
Self-taught shape-shifter
harvesting hard-won dreams
with the precision of sacrifice;
tactics of the permissible.
Still, you persist.
Lockbox wildfire; shrouded sunbeam
sumptuous and scant
in all the wrong ratios.
Now, upon this renaissance
this renegade reawakening
you are vibrant anew.
Sorry, not sorry;
contrition’s postponed
on account of good weather.
A brother’s bond has immanent forms.
Spectral, resonant signals still in motion.
Follow the signs.
Exit through the gift shop.
Fixed coordinates are out of fashion.
You sunk my battleship.
Now I am the sea.
They’ll call it delusion –
sugar-free horoscopes.
You know it as recognition.
Resonance.
Synchronicity.
He riding shotgun
through the reclamation heist.
The flicker between thoughts
the bend between train cars
the tremor of your laughter
the quick heat of remembering
nuances of an old language.
Left the iron on again.
A “haunting” is such a stereotype.
You are accompanied.
A new, trusted maestro
in a score that couldn’t service
this matinee showing.
Bless your fluency
in the syntax of presence
that has no need of form.
He is of the rhythm now –
rumble upon the rails
roars from the burn barrel
woven through your becoming
again, and alike,
and already always.
~