The earth is leaking


it’s been underground for a long time, hasn’t it,

all that complicated stuff that leaks from your eyes at the wrong moment

just below the surface and it rushes up in a red eruption, flaring then cooling, a crust again because it is easier to cool than burn,

there is more protection in a shell than to be on fire all the time

because it wants be about what was, never was, is and might be and might not be

wants to offer salve for all the burns, all the disembodied phone calls when questions hung unformed and unanswered,

wants to burn it all down to ash

wants to be about fixing everything, scorching away the pain that we let time create, the midnight silent, ceiling staring why

wants to be about joy and the nectar of your hair, the salt of your skin, fingers touching

wants to be about joy but becomes about time

wants to be about joy and becomes about missing

wants to be about lips together, soft and brief

wants to be a closing, a cooling, pain subsiding, release

wants to be a fissure, heat tapped and rising, then bursting

the channels of love and pain and distance and blame unclogged

wants to be about both giving and taking

wants to be in that moment free

wants to be the tear wiped from your cheek

wants to be simple

wants to be that instant

when we float.






About michaelstephendaigle

I have been writing most of my life. I am the author of the award-winning Frank Nagler Mystery series. "The Swamps of Jersey (2014); "A Game Called Dead" (2016) -- a Runner-Up in the 2016 Shelf Unbound Indie Author Contest; and "The Weight of Living" (2017) -- First Place winner for Mysteries in the Royal Dragonfly Book Awards Contest.
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