Dusk

Neither of us talk to the moon.
We stare at each other, our eyes
are tearing, our ears are sharp
to the audio of a distant rain.
The dusk is our only witness.
We recognize a memory from our past.
Reliving, we speak in random tales,
spilling a buried pain, and patiently
end at the hour we do not control.
Surrounded with our only presence,
our exchange of cruel words is a
sign of our angry sentiments, angry
litany that we haven’t uttered in
a long time.

 

2018