Poems

Drag It with Black Engine


I listen to the sound of music
a balm for hiding my longing
a resting place for my lack of smile
a pause from what is lingering.

I curl my body against a window
and contemplate the passing scenery.
There is too much to think about,
to much knowledge that overflows.

I wonder if I would be glad not to know
this certainty of sentimentality.
My heart rejects frivolous stupidity,
it knows me better than that.

I listen to the sound of music
and ache in places unseen and unnoticed.
I will not break from distance.
I turn the music up.