tag to 13x4, the big empty
when he awakes
(he awakes, since
resistance runs through him like an old song
familiar tang to the tongue)
white washes the world
grace kisses grass
coat coaxed flat
against the earth.
it's fall.
his fall.
he awakes
and there are
familiar contours.
the drape of his coat
a blanket to his form.
the curve of his jaw
a frame to his face.
he
knows smiles fall around
his future like bed curtains
enclosing him in happiness
for an infinite brevity.
he
knows mornings await with
a coffee pot as a centerpiece
skirting the worn fingertips of
his misshapen family of four.
he
knows they are out of reach
the dreams that he seeks but
he has loved and lived and
killed and grieved for more
than
this.
he knows
when he awakes
(he awakes, since
he refuses to say no
despite the same sufferings)
sleep seeps slowly
and fog gnaws at the horizon
and the sun wanes.
it's fallen.
he's fallen.
so
he's awake
isn't he?