nighttime orison

nighttime orison

blue ink and again, 

that same story

of mine-- 

scrawled like prayers

I loathe to utter.

like

how I told you 

it's okay 

if not today, 

while I was alone

I told the Moon 

about our world-- 

the stolen remorse 

in my chest. 

that dented 

soda can

I keep in my dresser,

just one of many 

little chances

I hide.

those crumbs

beneath the table, 

lines of ants

I led back home; 

staggered trails, 

don't get left behind.

the hair I cut 

and buried 

beneath the flower bed,

so the violets 

as they grow

will remember my name.

won't you take a bite 

out of this 

leaden offering, 

Moon, 

taste the stars I tried 

to swallow-- 

dried and crumbled 

saltines. 

her light sits 

on my windowsill, 

and sometimes,

ad astra per aspera, 

I tell her your name.