filamentary

In murals:

I remember—
I’m intimate with my life.
All of it.
Its benign beginnings;
Its blatant half-man self-shovelings.

Its excuses.
My quietly o’er-anviled strife.
Its insistent reach-for-honor.
Losing e’en my very last things—
Thrice; we live to be fledglings.

Always.
Cut lose the stars—
Diamond-dream hail.
Hell with a windshield, we were on foot,
Brows a’scream with soot.

Children,
Dumbass-kids possessed
With the one freakin’ wickedest
Idea in all we were, all that mattered:
Together, untattered.

Greying now;
Tears run the gully-of-straight-forty-scowl.
Mine’s a sheepish grin, though;
Whatever four decades of misses
Stand to mystify,

I’d dare that I’ll
Yet lose a tooth ‘midst a fight that might,
Filamentarily,
Flower from that fly-a-kite-root
Of eighties soot:

My girls.

—for K. Rhyan

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