Walking Home. Almost Night.
Following my shadow, I walk away
from intermittent sunlight and faith
recounting events dismembered by time.
One by one coincidental cracks
appear on the icy shell where I hide–
swimming naked–in tall grass.
I follow the shadow, step by step,
retracing the route, outlined in ancient
times, into dark space and beyond.
Holding a dying old hand–
unrecognized–by the many selves
disconnecting me from the inside.
Chased by death, I don’t walk fast.
I like the smell of death at my back.
I look around. No one’s in sight. Alone
in darkness, I resist the urge to feel pity
tonight, on my behalf.
Turning a corner, loosing by chance
the dark outline I’ve walked besides,
a passing light illuminates my stride.
Cubiyanqui 