These Streets Lap


Laps in the lamplight of
these streets,
I make them every time.

Laps in the places you’ve been
once before,
but have grown stale waiting.

Laps longingly to know
why in dreams
you take me every time.

Laps in the what-ifs and never-weres
in these streets,
I question them only here.

Laps of remembering
we will never linger together
in these streets.

Laps of always knowing
you still take hold,
in these dreams tonight.


When I was small

sleep came easier.
drifting into serenity
was a flowing thing.

my father would
tuck me in
and my mind
would fade away
at his whispering will.

before he mounted the stairs
I would stare, claimed
as curtain patterns shifted
from lilac and lace
to sinister faces and goblins’ frames.

he eased them from thought,
tucked in my wandering mind,
as serenity washed over.

sleep came easier
when I was small
now my mind and frame,
restless in the shadows,
are claimed.