he sits on the edge of the water
beady eyes look at his own reflection and
get swept up by debris on the cusp of a
vicious tidal pool
oil slicked feathers
flutter and fall and falter
a deadly aura of what it was like
once to be young and almost free

he’s not looking at his own reflection as much as
he’s looking at the person he used to be
before you, before me
more man than animal
when it is more man to be unaware of
earth shattering after effects than to leave the
earth unleavened after a
numbingly shallow existence
he does not know what happened to us on that
one moonlit night in december
the lake was frozen over with a
flurry of ice and pinky holding
bridging between life and death, we’d walk across
the water when it wasn’t biblical because we
are not saints or sinners
we were so close to not existing at all

down south where flowers still grew and
hot rain would fill the grey skies
when his innocence was more important than
watching the horizon die that day
he was wading in the waters
independent adolescence never came so
quickly but he was never alone
we were never alone because we peaked our
heads over the railing separating us from
nature and the
afterglow of its cognitive makers

when he ducks his head into a
muddy mirrored microcosm he deems it
safe enough to ignore the
rusted metal and blood tinged sweat of
healing gone south
he’s looking for the next place to
get his fair share of the crowded terrain and
we’re looking for a place to
call home in each other
it is far more man than animal to
find the hope amongst the rubble
but we find comfort in the
hurt and deem it
safe enough