“turning clean”
endless turns mark the hour,
the hand moving
through whatever pain waits,
its cold watching
set against a heart
already bruised by the ringing
keeps its own pace,
a kind of steady proving
the day carries
a cry held low,
quiet running through
a stretch of dark,
the road longer walking
twilight thinning into a soft fading
the weight settling,
the breath tightening
smiles try to hold the daylight,
brief staying
grief rising again,
its circle returning
affection gone thin,
a ghost drifting morning
the wish for what was still there,
still reaching
inside this drift,
this looping turning
we look for a small lift,
a breeze easing
the chest for a moment,
enough of a clearing
to keep going, to find
a corner worth keeping
.
