Runaway

I know they're watching
which is why this is OK.

They are colder than we are
holding candles in whisping hands
our flesh a ghost of what it was
and they on the brink of memory.

With them up there
what happens here
is fine – they know, they'll tell
they're closer to him
and one day I'll be as well.

Some must fade,
or there would be no darkness.
There must be star reviews –
those whom no one looks to,
like the words no one says.
They get dimmed, go back stage
their mutterings swaddled
in black curtain.

So the more lighting I do down here
the longer mine will burn.
I won't spread the word,
won't even tell you –
the circus of affection
would be smothering,
but I know you'll look up
and find me. Till then

Runaway

let the ones who know me
keep watching till this is done
and we are back in neon,
in street light lust, in sirens
and we leave this cooing,
this silent lullaby
for the jackals.