The occurrence

This burn
May never go away
But we will always know
Who you are

When second chances
Become second lives
And second lives
Replace all firsts
You are not
Who you were

Waiting in Brooklyn
For these changes
To take
It could be any place

Against the window
All the movement
Of a thousand days
Caked and barreled
Promising something else
The heat increasing
With all scars throbbing

The occurrence
Slight as any breeze
Through blades of grass
With ants unflinching

All of a sudden
Another blade
Makes itself known
That razor's edge
That brings us together
If for no other reason
Than life, like light
Bends down to be taken up

These cuts
Only skin deep
These burns
Only characters
On a keyboard
Or else
There is something to this
--
4.29.10