Don’t try to find breakfast in bed
my barefoot queen: friction and whiplash
and painted horses turn the mind
south of nowhere. A lack of temperance
and the lost art of gratitude drive
the pilgrim to sin and swoon.
All we ever wanted was everything,
breaking the rules on a ring and a prayer.
We fear the darkness, and the fire witnesses
the other side of silence.
(found poem: book titles on the shelves at the Eastside Library)