The light above the stairs is burnt out
and another Sunday evening passes by
without my replacing it.
I climb into the darkness
again on my way to bed, leaving
my day on the landing.
When I wake at three
and see a moonbeam
nestling in the moss green blanket
tangled like a fetter around my feet,
I remember that I spent the whole weekend
contemplating the nature of
forgiveness.
I escaped the limestone cathedral
from the side door
and drove through my tears,
until I sat along the mantle’s edge
of the river across from the still
dropping cliff, among the clover
where a lone black ant
crawled up the ridge of my shin.
Lying on my back in the shallow shadows,
I find that I now want to know more
than I did yesterday.
