Exposed

Today’s genesis met
the evening’s prior spell
when the small well-made bed
collided with bounding thoughts
I pushed away which brought
the silence of that moment
(and all the others
pounding out their strident
irksome rhythm in time
to the beating of my chest)
which I would mute
and push and bury gladly
resting in a happy memory
that would not come
and would not leave
its company the friendly
weeping spot the core
the only me exposed
seeping through the grieving
open hurts which sting
and cry more than all my
lifetime’s sunburned flesh
which I would shed and
gladly rend into a shape
less lonely than the
man who sits before you
bending toward the love
which he has lost.