Dreaming That My Legs Won’t Move, I Think of Debts

And all of our losses,
fallen like acorns to be gathered and
buried for safe keeping in the hours
when laughter fails and eyes close.

My blood is a tense whisper
and I remain half, which is of course
false. You drift across the scuffed
boards and light the candle,

snuffing one darkness, sparking
a second, opening a new quiet behind
yet another shade. What blurs

yesterday more than tomorrow?
Accepting my place, I observe the unlighted
corner, look for movement, wait.

“Dreaming That My Legs Won’t Move, I Think of Debts” was published in October 2019 at Mason Street Review’s Community Room Page. I’m grateful to the Newark Public Library and the editors of Mason Street for taking this piece.