Modesty

Circles make modest the mistakes

worth making twice in a lifetime

and vodka makes modest the tears.

The shutters of a house now dark

as it is silent,

Are drawn carefully and precisely

as to ensure the quiet perfection

of it's contents.

And I am noisy as the day is long.

But I can build myself a body

from the ashes,

Falling now like snowflakes

in the streetlight.

My afterthoughts all flutter away

and I bid them farewell.

Parting truly is a sweet sorrow;

but sorrow none the less.

I am better off left to my devices,

which are predictable,

than to my thinking,

which is not.

The ink on the page

is one in the same,

as the ink on my skin.

And parishioners of a dying religion

wish only to understand,

before being understood.

I find myself among the grasshoppers

in these early morning hours,

Praying like hell

From beneath their wings and arches.