The sand-filled boy
became bottom-heavy,
his past running through him,
holding him down.
Always so worried about time
running out
that he never learned to turn
somersaults
and reverse the process.
When they buried him, of course,
he found an equilibrium.
If he had been able to care,
he might have been happy with that.
this fading night
has been
dark chocolate
biting softly back
at my happy tongue
but dawn is coming soon
and with it will come the moment
when I will
bite down
to learn whether what I’ve chosen
measures up
my fear is not
that I will be disappointed
but
that I may not be
utterly delighted
that I will have imagined
more than I can chew
and that by dismissing
the good
because it is not
perfection
I will forget the sweet stab
of dark chocolate
that has enthralled me
thus far
Dark Matter 