I remember when I played teacher
to an audience of dolls
and how chalk would cling lovingly to my fingers;
Or that time when I thought
I saw an angel crying at the foot of my bed
enveloped by the smooth sides of
moonlight;
But rain always comes and melts
what letters and symbols lie chalked
onto those walls,
and muffles what the night air would sink into my skin.
I remember things I said,
and the display case that held
neatly lined-up achievements that
slowly
leaked
of
things I didn’t say.
Today my mind is soft
and sky blue --
Even the clouds
stopped still.
