by Arthur Kayzakian
I walk behind my footsteps
when I follow you and I.
I do this to tread underneath myself
because following my shadow
is the way I stay one step ahead
of you. Before you go, I am
already gone. I know your colors--
the clear white understanding
of a black goodbye. I want to see the face
that plays the mask, the cheeks
that curve high into your bones when you
smile. I hide behind the words
you breathe to make sure I am
not left speaking by myself.
You joke around with solitude, thinking
the lonely do not notice.
But sadness has a limit, and when its eyes
meet patience, the sweetness
of its wait will run dry as bitter leaves
crackling under your halloween.
Why are you such an october in winter?
I suspect it's because you howl
when it's white outside. I imagine the angry
bubbles of your hour glass frizzing
upon the passing minutes as your seconds
walk away from you. Don't let me
tick away--don't allow for time
to be the only movement left between us.
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