Placid

A Poem

Divorced from the agony for a little while, pain settled into corners farther and farther away

The ripples of December water, grazing the top of the ice, not a place for things to grow

The moon keeps being forced to share the sky and isn’t drinking for fun anymore

Crystalizing the former sentences into reasons to stay, breaking through the shadowed glass of foresight

Smoothing the gravel in front of the door, scanning the world for immediate bumps, and feeling sad about it

The texture of the day gone through so many costume changes, there’s no one left who can tell whether or not that’s a mask that it still wears

J.D. Harms 2020